Deep Cover
by GoldenNinde
Summary: Going undercover wasn’t a fact, it was an act. An act which put your life in danger, and you did it by lying and cheating and pretending, but it was noble and brave, it helped get the bad guys.
1. Of dreams and waking up

_**Because no author can possibly resist the pull of an undercover story.**_

_**I was totally at it's mercy. Another multi-chapter, though probably not as long as Unintended (which I haven't forgotten, I promise!)**_

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**Deep Cover**** – by GoldenNinde**

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**CHAPTER 1: Of dreams and waking up**

"_Bones…" his voice was ric__h and husky, a low, low growl. They were surrounded and in a crowded place. People on the bar counter, on the dance floor, couples walking by, sitting at tables… but it felt like they were alone. Hidden from prying eyes in their own, private, naughty little bubble where they weren't who they said they were, and only they knew who they'd once been. _

_Seeley __Booth and Temperance Brennan, FBI Special Agent and Forensic Anthropologist._

_No longer._

_She was wearing a black, low-__cut dress with a short, swishing skirt that shimmered in the disco lights. There was danger around, but she didn't care. She clung to him, closer than Brennan would ever have dared._

_He was in jeans and a dark blue__ shirt, open in a V. His arm slung possessively around her, the way he always wanted to but never did. _

"_Look at me, honey." She turned her head and the elegantly styled locks framed her face, expression of guilty beauty._

_Booth would never have spoken to Brennan like that, either._

_They both stood leaning against the wall, illuminated in__ alternating sharp bursts of light: yellow, green, pink, red, and blinding white. The club was alive with activity, sex, money, laughter, music, drinks…_

"_Bones, we have to catch the killer."_

_That was what he said, but it so__unded like. "I want to have sex with you right here, right now."_

"_Yes."_

_But in this universe __catching the killer wasn't an immediate priority. His hand on her thigh, now that was important. The way the roughness felt against the satin skin was causing her to breathe heavily and him to crave more. Always more._

_She whispered in his ear: "__Look around, maybe we see him." Accidentally licked his earlobe, and that made him go all stiff and his pupils to dilate the size of dinner plates. She liked that, and giggled._

"_Want me to do that again?" it wasn't Brennan speaking, of course, it was her voice but another person.__ He shivered._

"_If you don't, I'll _make_ you."_

_She licked and then bit softly, until he sagged against the wall in an effort to hold himself up. This, to the woman who wasn't Brennan, was just sinfully delightful. She turned, keeping his arm around her shoulders, until she was facing him.__ They were locked in a very close embrace, bodies aligned, like lovers._

_Which they were, in this world._

"_Want me to do that again?" Brennan said. But not really Temperance Brennan.__ Someone else._

"_Hell yeah."_

_She kissed him, pressing her body against his in a sinuous move, like an S, first hips then waist then breasts, then leaning away._

"_Come get me."_

_She whispered with a final flick of her tongue. And walked away into the dance flood, knowing it would take him a few seconds to be able to walk. Knowing she was walking into danger and that, without his protective strength, she was vulnerable._

_But she didn't feel vulnerable, she felt powerful, and __confident in her high heels, and surrounded in a cloud of heat that smelled of Booth._

_Not-Brennan laughed, feeling the thrill of knowing, with absolute certainty, that he was hers, and that she belonged to him too, and that the fire bur__ning in her depths would blaze to starlight soon enough._

_That was when the killer found her, and she felt the k__nife against her throat._

_*_

With a start, Dr Temperance Brennan woke in her office couch, covered in various sheets of paper. Some were from her latest novel, others from news articles and internet research.

The common word in all of those was 'undercover'.

She was a thorough researcher, and that was what she'd been doing when she fell asleep. A good, solid scientist who liked to base her reasoning on facts, but facts became ephemeral whenever Booth was involved. She began the day feeling certain of something and within minutes of being with him, that fact could disappear into oblivion.

Like 'going undercover'. That wasn't a fact, it was… an empty concept, it was something you did which put your life in danger, but you did it by lying and cheating and acting, and it was noble and brave and you caught evil. How could your life depended on your ability to be someone else?

They'd done it before, twice, but that didn't mean she knew how. And the first time had been for a day, in Vegas, surrounded by security. The second hadn't even been a risk, it had been to gain information from the circus performers.

This was a very different kind of job, she knew. This was for two weeks, minimum contact with the FBI, and deep cover.

"_Being __undercover __is __disguising __one's own identity or using an assumed identity for the purposes of gaining the trust of an individual or organization to learn secret information or to gain the trust of targeted individuals in order to gain information or evidence. Traditionally it is a technique employed by law enforcement agencies around the world and a person who works in such a role is commonly referred to as an undercover __agent_."

She read the words "disguising one's own identity" and didn't fully understand how one did that. She still remembered what it had felt like to be Roxy. To pretend Booth was hers and to act like she owned it all, from the man next to her to the high heels she despised. To walk letting her hips sway, to smile like she knew everybody's secrets, to talk with a drawl that made men stare. It had been thrilling. Electrifying.

Like her dream.

But if asked to do that for two weeks, she would have said no. She couldn't do it, she couldn't be someone else for so long. It was more than simply disguising yourself. It was changing yourself, and…

"I hate psychology." She murmured under her breath.

Booth hadn't wanted her to do it this time, there had been a very loud and clear argument about that. She went above his rank, in the end, understanding his superior's reasoning, the lack of resources in this instance, and the need to act quickly. The danger of a loose killer. His protectiveness of her wasn't as important as potential lives to save, so it hurt her to hurt him, but she called the Deputy Director and they talked about protocol and risks and being a civilian working for the FBI for over two hours.

She decided she could do it as she shakily hung up the telephone. The danger was clear, but she understood her choice.

And yet, in her dream she'd completely forgotten or ignored it. Danger? What did the danger matter, if Booth talked to her like that? Who cared about some murderer when she could kiss in front of everyone? All that had mattered had been pressing herself against Booth in that dark lit place ready to do whatever dark deed she could make him beg for… and that wasn't _right_.

In the end, she'd paid the price, even in her dream. The killer found her.

"I really, really hate psychology." She said again, aloud, knowing no one could hear but not caring very much. Finally she stood up, discarding the latest article she'd been reading, crumpling it and throwing it into the bin.

The phone rang, and she hurried to get it.

"Hello?"

"_Dr Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institution?"_

"Who is this?"

"_My name is Gabrielle Anor, I work for the FBI. Is this Dr Brennan?"_

"Yes, can I help you? Usually Agent Booth…"

"_I need you and Agent Booth to come to __my department tomorrow after work. I am going to prep you for your Deep Cover assignment in terms of props, dress, etcetera."_

"Oh. We're supposed to meet Dr Sweets there before…"

_"Yes, for the psychological evaluation. Think of me as the physical one."_

"All right, I suppose Agent Booth knows how to get to your department?"

"_Of course Seeley knows."_

Suddenly she didn't like miss Anor's tone.

"_I already called him, so you don't need to tell him when you see him."_

Brennan didn't say thank you.

"What do you mean when I see him? We haven't got a case, I'll meet him tomorrow…"

_"He told me he's on his way here."_

And Gabrielle Anor hung up.

The mutual dislike had been unsaid but clearly present during the conversation. They hadn't even met, how could the women despise her already?

Brennan walked to sit on her desk, remembered the taste he'd had when she'd kissed him inside this very office a year ago, and sighed as she let herself fall on the chair. She was doubting her ability to do this task successfully. She put her head in her hands, trying to dispel the headache beginning to form.

It was unlike her to _doubt_, an alien feeling which unsettled her, and it was especially frustrating because he…

"Bones!"

With a jerk her head snapped up.

"Hey Booth."

He looked concerned. He was wearing his usual suit, and a light blue tie she liked. The door to her office had been open, and now he leaned against the frame, and she felt inexplicably guilty for having been caught with her head in her hands.

"I've got the specifics of the case for you. Who we're going to be… where we're going, that sort of thing."

"I didn't volunteer blindly, Booth."

"What are the suspect's names?"

Silence. No, she didn't know. She knew their jobs, why she was needed to assist with the cover, but not their names. He was pleased that for once she didn't have an answer.

"Are you… worried?"

"No." She said immediately. His rolled his eyes, annoyed.

"Nervous?"

"Why should I be nervous?"

He gave a short laugh that was devoid of humour. She knew what came next.

He walked inside finally, purposefully striding until he towered over her even from the other side of the desk. She didn't like feeling smaller than him, so she stood up, ready to face his accusations.

She thought he was still angry that she'd put herself in danger to save other people, he thought loving her made feeling angry harder, but that maybe if he pretended he didn't, he'd be able to shout a little and talk some sense into her stubborn head.

"Why should you be nervous? I wonder why, Bones. Really, there seems to be no reason at all. I mean, you're only going to be living with me in a hotel for two weeks pretending to be my… someone I _pay_." His clear disgust at this only served to rile him up more. "All so that we can advance the investigation on five murders which aren't serial, but connected to an organisation suspected of contraband. Is it contraband of weapons? Of drugs? I wish. Contraband of people, Bones. _Women_."

She held his gaze with force.

"So why be worried, you ask? You might be in danger, you might be doing this for the first time in your life but hey, who's nervous? Not Temperance Brennan, that's for sure."

He wasn't _really_ angry at her, he was furious at her decision not to include him in her suffering. This time, apparently, he didn't get to see what was wrong, didn't get to try and help. It was 'fix it alone Brennan', independent and selfless. Another moment of her life he didn't get to touch.

"Booth, I didn't make this decision lightly. I know the risks, I spoke to Deputy Director Edwards. I am aware of my inexperience."

"Then why did you say yes?"

"Because I can do it. I can help, and I'm the only one. Agent Perotta is heading another team, and Agent Jureau is in Barcelona. This cover requires a young woman to be your partner." she never had problems enunciating any word. But this one she couldn't. "And I am the only one who can do it."

He didn't like the way she said 'partner' like it could mean 'lover'. It felt frightening.

"Then admit you're nervous. Let me help you with this."

She held on to her feelings, however. Maybe that should have told him just how afraid she was. Maybe that was the warning sign he desperately sought.

"No."

He knew she wasn't just denying him the fact that she was nervous. She was denying his help. That was what made him say what he said next.

"So having to touch me and kiss me won't affect you, right? Nothing about me will ever affect you, will it?"

She stared at him, eyes wide and blue and he thought she was surprised at his words, but really she was surprised that he couldn't see how wrong he was. That he had no idea.

He wished she'd understood that he wanted an answer to his question.

"Everyone knows Dr Brennan can be one hundred percent rational. No emotions, no strings, just acting. Miss Compartmentalise, aren't you? And you're so good at that, why worry at all, I wonder?"

"Are you _finished_?" she asked coldly, hating the way her eyes glistened.

They stared each other down for an entire minute, an unspoken argument being solved without words.

In the end, he exhaled a breath and the anger left with it.

"Bones, it's just difficult for me sometimes, to understand the way you feel." He said through gritted teeth.

"It's not for you to understand." She spoke sharply. But the edges didn't quite cut, and he knew she'd eventually forgive him.

"I'm sorry. But it's normal to be upset. You've never done this before…"

"I'm not feeling very forgiving, Booth."

"Bones, it's _normal_. Just admit you don't want to talk about it, and let's move on. But… maybe later? Maybe you change your mind and you want me to help you?"

"All I need is reassurance." She whispered quietly. "That you'll be there. That's all I need, and I already know that. So why should I need to hear it again? But I do. I need you to never leave me. Never."

"Never. I'll always be there to protect-"

"Not protect. I will have to protect myself, we won't always be together physically. I mean… just… _be_. Be there."  
"Always." He said solemnly, in a hoarse, deep tone.

"Okay then." She nodded to herself not looking at him, looking down instead. Her tone was matter of fact. "Are you satisfied now? I'm… I will be all right. I'm ready to do this."

She looked up, and he saw her eyes were shining. He walked swiftly around the desk and crushed her to his chest, feeling horrible for shouting at her, but melting with the relief that she'd finally opened up.

"Bones…"  
"Not now." Her voice was a breathless whisper, but he knew she needed quiet.

They were silent for a few moments, holding each other more tightly than usual. When was the last time he'd hugged her? It felt a long time ago. Was that why he couldn't bear to let her go now?

Finally, the tension in the air slowly faded away. Only to be replaced with another, more familiar tension.

"Do you want to know our names?" he said drawing away, a small grin in place.

"That sentence sounded strange." She said, and her voice was cool but she was smiling a little too.

"You're going to be Laura."

"Laura?"

"Yeah, I didn't get to pick."

She mused on this choice of words.

"So… what would my name be if you could have?"

He grinned. "That's not for you to know."

"Come on, Booth."

"Nope. And I'm Robert, not Booth anymore." He said in an exaggerated, deeper voice. She laughed, and he knew he could breathe again because she'd forgiven him.

"Robert and Laura. What's your last name?"

"Peterson."

"What about mine?"

"Thompson. But here's the thing, you won't introduce yourself as Laura, because that's your real name."

She didn't understand.

"Why not?"

"Most prostitutes use fake names. Only one rich client is about the highest status there is, understand?"

"Yes, I know this."

"Well, apparently it means nothing crass. A stylish name, Edwards said. I'll shoot you, I said." She laughed again. He fell in love with the rarity of the sound. "But the result was that you get to pick your fake name."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It doesn't have to be on any license, so you can invent it."

"A stylish name for a well-paid prostitute?"

"Afraid so." They exchanged looks of chagrin.

"I'll think about it."

He began to leave, but stopped at the door. She hated the metaphor he presented right now: always hovering at the door but never coming inside or going outside. Or doing both, which meant nothing.

"Bones, do you forgive that little outburst back there?"

She smiled. "It's normal. You were nervous, too."

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_**So think of this as a bit of a prologue. Of sorts.**__** Something about it is missing… I dunno, I'm not totally satisfied with it. WARNING: I might come back and rewrite. But I hope you still like!**_

_**The **__**cool stuff is coming next chap!**_

_**As always, thoughts are MUCH appreciated! Criticism is also welcome. (**__**If it's good, and along the lines of: "Oh you are the best author in the world and the Bones fanfiction is lucky to have you!")  
Ehem. Along those lines ;)**_

_**Not that I can't take criticism! **_

_**You know what? Bring it on!**_


	2. Something sweet

_**Chapter two is here! **_

_**Thanks for the feedback, I'm really excited about this story ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 2: Something sweet**

"Welcome, Agent Booth, Dr Brennan. Please sit down."

"What? What is that tone?"

"I… I was trying to be serious."

"You sound so grown up, Sweets! I'm so proud."

"No… what? No, I don't."

"Doesn't he sound all important to you, Bones?"

"Yes, he does. You do, Sweets."

"I'm not… I wasn't trying to."

"That's what it sounded like…"

"Yes, it was…"

"Plus, you said you wanted to sound professional…"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did, you just did…"

"Are you getting promoted?"

"Was it your thirteenth birthday yesterday or something? Do you feel like a proper teenager, finally?"

"Booth, he's an adult. Don't be mean…"

"Okay _enough_."

The partners were sitting closer than usual in Sweet's couch, bickering in the evening sunset light coming through the windows. Dr Sweets himself observed and analysed them, like he always did, without being able to stop it. Dr Brennan's thigh brushed Agent Booth's every time she moved.

They shared a smile and he felt further away than ever. Their clear banding against him obviously expressed a recent argument, but he wasn't going to begrudge them their moments of fun if that was what they needed to feel like the unit they were, again. Even if it was fun at his expense.

"I was trying to sound professional, that's all. Really, guys."

"So _that's_ what it was!" Booth said, laughing.

"This isn't one of our usual sessions, Booth. It's not an evaluation, it's preparation for the trials you will face during fifteen days."

"Actually, two weeks equals fourteen days." She piped in quietly with a kind smile. She didn't see the look of complete adoration on his face when he turned to correct her notion that Sweets didn't know. The words died in his throat, so the psychologist felt the need to intervene.

"Thank you, Dr Brennan."

She sat back, looking proud and a little like a child, but not really.

"As I was saying, this is serious. I was assigned to you because we've worked together for so long, but also because it is believed… incorrectly, as I've tried to explain… by some in the Bureau… it is believed that I have a small amount of power to influence you. What I mean by that is that you actually listen to me. Sometimes. I think."

"Go on." Booth said, nodding his approval. Sweets felt encouraged by this, and decided to begin.

"We don't have as many sessions as I'd like for such a trying emotional challenge, but I think we can manage this in the hours given. As long as we work efficiently, and prepare seriously."

"We were only joking." She said quietly, looking at him intently, and he felt that she was watching him for signs of being hurt by their innocent antics.

"I know, that's not what I meant. Obviously you've done this before, but deep cover requires a very important range of abilities that are difficult to acquire if you don't possess them naturally."

"Booth has been undercover more times than I have." Brennan volunteered.

"Yes, Dr Brennan, but here the team is all that counts, Agent Booth's performance is completely dependent on yours. You both need to be natural around each other and no matter how used he is to the tension, adding _you_ to the mix…"

But a warning, murderous look (not from Agent Booth, but to Sweets' enormous surprise) from Dr Brennan made him stop. She could make him do anything she wanted, Sweets realised. He'd do anything she asked, or didn't actually ask.

"I mean that being together will be a challenge in itself." He amended.

Booth nodded curtly, clearly stating the topic closed.

"Okay, I've already been briefed about your case, so let's begin. Dr Brennan have you chosen the fake name?"

She nodded.

"So… what is it?" Booth asked, leaning a little closer to her. Sweets resisted the urge to roll his eyes, or possibly say: 'Kiss her. Just do it, it won't kill either of you. KISS HER!'

"Angel."

There was a moment of silence during which Sweets' mind exploded with psychological possibility: a name so close to her best friend's, suggesting insecurity issues and a need to understand or even become more like Angela, who was free and secure.

"Wow. I like it. I mean, in a totally weird way." Booth grinned and turned back to Sweets. He didn't see how her eyes lingered on his face, watching it for some sign. She didn't find it, however, and turned to face the psychologist as well.

"We'll be staying in the Hotel DeMarco in Manhattan, where the meeting takes place." Booth began. "Robert Peterson, aka Hollywood Rob, or just Hollywood, was the lead who turned on the meeting and informed the FBI. I am, of course, taking his place, since none of the crooks there has actually met him before. The meeting is a secret gathering to open the possibility of a deal or pact between the top six exporters. Hollywood Rob was mostly against it, and took a lot of convincing to show up, he told us as much. So I know what my angle is. He was very, very new to the market, which is why hardly anyone had met him, and controlled a surprisingly extended part of the New England traffic. We actually suspect he killed off D'Angelo B and took over his enterprise."

"Excellent, so you are already established as a new but promising criminal. Ruthless, rich, and with aspirations."

"Yeah. And don't forget handsome, they didn't call him Hollywood Rob for no reason." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Brennan and she laughed, feeling slightly light-headed.

Sweets chuckled and turned to her.

"And you, Dr Brennan? Tell me about Laura Thompson. Or Angel."

"Well she is fictional, created for the purpose of gaining information from the other women sure to be accompanying the other five gangsters, and to reinforce Agent Booth's cover. I will be his… companion the entire week, although if propositioned by another man I suppose I'll have to agree to gain information…"

"Whoa! Wait, just wait a second. You don't have to do anything, Bones." He turned to her, wide eyes reassuring.

"Agent Booth, I'm afraid Dr Brennan might find herself in that position at some time."

"Well then screw this, no one told me she should say yes!"

"It's not like I'd actually have sexual intercourse with any of them!" she said indignantly. "Do you honestly think I'd…? I'd never, ever do that. I _meant_-"

"She won't. But your attitude in the matter is something we must focus on." Sweets considered it a good moment to bring up one of the prime issues they would face.

"Actually, it's not." Booth was quick to counteract. "It's something we shouldn't ever discuss again."

"Agent Booth, you know you can't act like that when the time comes. If another man tried to flirt with Dr Brennan's character, a real gangster might be possessive of a physical partner, but that's about it."

"Possessive?" she asked quietly, her eyes never, not once, straying to Booth.

"Well, yes. But there can be no sign of a real, emotional bond between you."

"There is none." She was quick to point out. Her body language screamed lie, from the shifting to the avoiding eye-contact.

"Yes there is." Sweets said, feeling suddenly very tired. "You are very close friends and you've been partners for four years."

Booth nodded, satisfied with this answer. "Okay, I'll tone down the concern. But that doesn't mean I won't kill anyone the moment they try and lay a finger on her. She's not an Agent, Sweets. She's an inexperienced civilian."

"We know." Brennan said, still not turning to face him. Interesting technique, the psychologist observed, how she faced the problem by simply not looking at it.

The Problem spoke: "Okay, can we talk about something else now?"

"Of course. There is a matter of your performance."

There was a silent moment during which both men considered the possible joke, realised it was too easy, and decided to pass. Dr Brennan looked from one to the other and rolled her eyes.

"Are you referring to our acting skills, Dr Sweets?"

"Yes. We've role-played before in here for evaluative purposes, but I'd honestly like to see how you act on demand, if I were to, say, posit a scenario and ask you two to pretend…?"

It was horrible, but unspoken, the worry about Dr Brennan's ability to act was clear in his question, and she took it in stride. "I know my limitations, but trust me. I accepted this assignment because I think I can do it."

"She can. She's amazing." Booth said confidently. "You'll see."

"Do you have any idea as to how you should… interpret… this role, Dr Brennan? Give me some insight into Angel's thoughts."

"What I think the fictional woman would feel like?"

"That's just what I meant."

She sat forward a little, preparing. Her blue eyes looked larger and bluer than ever, Booth thought as she unfocused them and came up with a constructed, perfect explanation.

"I think she's obviously extremely confident. To use your body for money must be somewhat building to that, so she is perfectly comfortable with her physical appearance. She knows men are drawn to her, but she's not a common, poor prostitute. She is a rich woman, completely dependent on Robert Peterson…" here she hesitated, but finally she said. "Her goal is to please him, yes? Her only job is to do whatever he wants."

Booth felt uncomfortable, Sweets suddenly realised what he'd just done and felt very sorry for the Agent, and Dr Brennan kept talking, unaware of the effect she was having.

"So I think, while _he's_ there, her attention will revolve around him entirely. She will try and please him without bothering him, she knows him, she knows exactly what he wants so she won't disturb him. She'll be invisible if she has to, or flashy if he asks her to. When he's not there, the personality will vary, because she'll probably remain proud and superior around other women, and be polite and flirtatious without being inviting to other men. She moulds herself to his needs, so when there are no more, she is left free to expand and control."

"Very impressive, Dr Brennan."

"Yeah, Bones, that was great. Since when do you have such good psychological insight?"

She wasn't offended, instead she felt oddly flushed, and didn't meet his eyes as she answered. "Well, I imagined her as one of the characters in my books, instead of a real person. Which she isn't. So if I think of her as a fictional element, I can imagine how I'd make her react to other people. It's what I always do when I write. Besides, I don't have to guess through her reactions: I can already see the thoughts in her head. Figuratively speaking."

"Well it was fantastic, Dr Brennan."

"Thank you, Sweets."

"So if I were to ask you to walk around the room as though you were Angel… would you?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Were you?"

"Was I?"

"Will you?"

"… I'm confused." Booth put in.

"Will you ask me?" She said, exasperated.

"Maybe."

"Sweets, I don't know what that means."

"Okay, okay. If you wouldn't mind, just acting here in front of us? But for now, let's just pretend Agent Booth isn't Robert Peterson. You walk into a room and find two men, how does Angel react? Feel? Talk?"

She nodded, but Booth was feeling very sceptical about the whole thing.

"Sweets, she can do it. There's no need to make her act it out now. I feel like I'm ten and taking drama class."

"Let Dr Brennan show us."

She stood, suddenly looking unsure. "I… shall I come in?"

"Yes, that's good. But you're not coming in, Angel is."

"Bones, you don't have to do it if you don't want."

"I need to know that I'm good enough, Booth."

"You are."

She walked to the door and shut it behind herself.

"Okay, Sweets." Booth jumped immediately after the door was closed. "What was that about? Ask her to pretend…? You want her to prove something to you? What else does she have to do to make you realise how incredible she is?"

"That was quite a leap, now wasn't it?"

"Shut up. And once she does it, and she will and you'll eat your words, I'm not treating her like that any more time that I have to. She can do it. I knew that before I made it impossible for her to come. It will be hard enough for me to treat her like she's my… like I… it will be difficult when I'm surrounded by guys who'd want to kill us, now it's impossible. I won't do it."

"I know you won't, as I also know that you can, if you have to. You have been on four successful undercover operations, two of which you headed. I know you find it difficult to be unkind to Dr Brennan, but simply distance her from the character she becomes. Separate them."

"I _can't_." Booth said, staring at the floor. Sweets couldn't see, but he knew the Agent's eyes would be confused, vulnerable.

"Agent Booth, you know you have to, if this cover has to work, you must-"

But just then Brennan entered the room.

She was wearing jeans and high-heeled sandals. Her shirt was a dark green V neck, but not excessively provocative: just comfortable. Yes, she'd been wearing make-up, but only the minimum necessary to cover any tiredness in her face. And _she'd looked exactly like this a minute ago when she left the room._

So… how did she do it?

She walked in looking taller because she was standing straighter. And glamorous, that was obviously because of the confident, amused smile on her lips. Beautiful, yes, she'd been beautiful before, but somehow even that was more noticeable now. She walked two steps to the back of the couch, then lifted a long, flexible leg over the top, shifted her weight and silkily slid down until she sat next to Booth. She didn't walk the two extra steps it would take to simply go around the couch and sit, she did it the hard way.

Even sitting there, legs crossed, something about her suggested lots and lots of the darkest kind of fun…

And then suddenly her shoulders slumped, she leaned back against the couch and smiled a guilty little smile that was completely Brennan. It was so quick that Booth didn't have time to recover, and he stretched out a hand to touch her face, open mouthed.

She met his eyes and caught her breath, forgetting how one did, in fact, _breathe_ anymore. His rough fingers brushed her cheek, then pulled a lock of hair back and tuck it behind her ear.

Sweets wished he could disappear.

Brennan wished Sweets could disappear.

Booth wished he and Brennan could disappear, and then reappear in his apartment, preferably on top of the bed already.

But the moment broke, as these always do. Sometimes it's about an interruption, sometimes one of them looks away, or just blinks, enough time for them to realise what they are doing. Most of the time, a deep breath clears the head and what a moment ago was him in love with her was now just him with her.

It was Booth himself who tore his eyes away, and sat as far as he could from her.

"That was freaky." He said, looking at Sweets and sounding rather breathless.

"It was… humbling. I'm sorry, Dr Brennan, I never doubted your ability, but I wasn't expecting this."

"It's easy for me to get in mind of a character. She's fiction."

Sweets immediately picked up on her choice of words. How she said 'fiction' over and over again, to reassure him that in 'reality' she wouldn't be able to do this. Except she would. She had. This was reality.

Booth's watch sounded the alarm, and he jumped.

"Come on, Bones, we have to meet with Gabrielle in ten minutes."

Without looking at each other or at Sweets they stood to leave.

"Remember we have another session tomorrow, the last one to prepare." The psychologist said, hoping they could move past today's rough spot. It was clear his time had only worsened the tension.

"We know, Dr Sweets." Brennan said.

"Okay, so see you tomorrow."

They left, Booth holding the door for her, fingers brushing her lower back, and Sweets thought: they can do this. I'm not crazy, putting them in a situation their relationship isn't ready for, right? I'm not completely insane, am I, for letting them go on a mission their deepest feelings will suffocate in? Sure, he might find this difficult, with Dr Brennan being all… well, Angel, and having to pretend to use her when he loves her will kill him. And yes, she'll probably have to face a shock when she realises her feelings and her character's begin to blend… both ending with a profound attachment toward Agent Booth. But I'm not mad, am I? I'm not a bad person for trusting in their ability to suppress every emotion in order to survive for two weeks?

What have I _done_?

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_**AW, poor Sweets, when Booth and Bren go all *partners 4eva eyesex RULZ!* on him ;)**_

_**Reviews are awesome**_

_**Reviews are **__**better than pie**_

_**Reviews are **__**Booth **_

_**Wearing (just) a tie**_


	3. Something sour

_**These chapters are waaay too easy to write. I love it, the words just tumble out! Bones is FUN!**_

_**;)**_

_**But not mine. Ehem, that was my sort of disclaimer.**_

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**CHAPTER 3: Something sour**

They walked quickly, Brennan following Booth as he lead the way to the Special Ops department. Because that was where Miss Gabrielle Anor worked. A woman who called him Seeley to Brennan's _face_. Sort of.

Not a word was exchanged, but it wasn't because of anger or fear. The silence between them was normal, comfortable. Each was immersed in their own thoughts.

"Booth…" Until she tapped his shoulder and stopped walking. Her tone was curious, and held a hint on vulnerability. He'd known something was wrong, and finally, _finally_ she let him see what that was.

"Do you think I made the right choice? I know you're against me coming with you because of my inexperience and my lack of… because you think I'm not good enough. Do you think I should step back now, before it's too late?"

It was already too late, but he ignored every warning flashing in his head that this wasn't a good time to lose focus, and stepped toward her until the only thing she could see were his eyes. She swallowed at the sudden move, but didn't step back.

"Bones, I never said that. I never said the reason I didn't want you to come with me was your inexperience. You are a natural at this kind of work, and your self defence skills are just one of the things you do so well. I never said I didn't want you to come because I didn't think you were good enough." His voice was low and serious, and he spoke in a rush, the faster to get to her, to make her understand. "I didn't want you to come because I can't stand you being in danger. And I know, I know you can take care of yourself, you've proven that to me and to everyone, time and again. But it's part of me… part of my job in our partnership, to ground you, to help you, and sometimes to worry about you. It's as natural to me as breathing, Bones. I have to, and I'll keep worrying about you no matter what. I want you to come. I'm glad you did come, that I won't be alone, that _you'll_ be there. I'm still afraid, of course, but I know you'll do it. Of course you made the right choice."

They looked at each other for a moment and her thoughts seemed to twist and mesh into a confusing scramble of ludicrous half-formed sentences of love, and the irresistible desire to kiss him, which made absolutely no rational sense since he'd said himself all they had was a partnership.

And then he did something new. As if to convey his strength, or maybe his support, or just himself, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and closed his eyes. She slowly found the nerve to put her hands on his neck, holding him closer so the tips of their noses brushed. So close.

Too close. Much too close.

But they didn't move away from a few moments, and she closed her eyes too, and he felt the soft caress of her eyelashes against his cheek.

"Bones…" he murmured, and his breath mixed with hers. "Bones I trust you more than anything."

"I believe you."

Footsteps around them meant people walked by, it was a large wide corridor, but no one dared to say anything. If they'd been kissing it would have been different, but this was so intimate and personal most of the workers simply looked away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

*

"Hello, Dr Brennan. Seeley, I'm glad to see you."

She was too pretty, and she wore too much make up. Brennan disliked women who erased themselves until the no longer retained their unique identities, and this person represented a mass stereotype.

They had reached her office, only to find her waiting for them outside talking to three people, clearly in charge.

Gabrielle Anor was short and dark-haired, and at least forty judging by her facial markers. Brennan could clearly see the tissue scars which signified some form of plastic surgery, and had a (for her, completely irrational) premonitory feeling that told her she wouldn't like this woman.

The fact that she said 'Seeley' in such a trilling, cheerful voice might possibly, remotely, just… _maybe_ factor into the unusually quick judgement of her character, and instantly gave Brennan a headache.

"Nice to see you too, but you know I don't want you to call me that, Gabrielle." Booth said.

"Booth is so impersonal, Seeley. You'll get used to it." Her voice was high and very, very annoying.

Booth just shook his head, grinning.

Behind Miss Anor, the three other workers were awkwardly waiting to be introduced.

"These are my best stylists." Gabrielle said abruptly, noticing Brennan noticing them. "They'll be prepping you in a minute, with the help of a few assistants, when you step into my office. Ria is clothes." A tall, grey haired women smiled at them. She was the kind of person who could smile good-naturedly without trying. "Laura does make-up." A bird-thin black woman gave Brennan a lopsided smile.

"And Lex here is hair." A bald, tattooed man nodded. "I'm in charge of the overall look, the props, the design. I know some people…" and here her fake falsetto acquired some emotion: mostly bitterness. "…may undervalue our work, but it's very important to get this right."

"Hey, no one here's under valuating you. If it weren't for you and your secret compartments, Gabi, I'd probably be dead now."

Brennan didn't like that she hadn't heard the story before. Gabrielle laughed.

"Come in my office, I'll brief you there."

"I didn't realise a 'look' required quite so many people." Brennan murmured to Booth.

"Actually, Bones a high profile cover like ours is pretty rare and they don't want to make mistakes. They have an entire studio in here because they need to get everything a hundred percent perfect. Even a _look_. From the guy posing as a junkie on the street to the model standing on a corner with a camera. Looking the part is the first, most important step in undercover assignments. Acting the part is the second."

"What's the third?"

"Winning."

She followed him into Miss Anor's '_office'_. It's wasn't an office. It resembled nothing even remotely like an office. A hair dresser's, yes, possibly. Not a work space.

But Brennan didn't comment, and Booth had already been there on two of his assignments.

Stepping inside the room felt a little like leaving the Hoover Building, and entering a film studio, or a beauty saloon. Mirrors and yellow lights surrounded the small group and Brennan saw her pale reflection looking back at her from three different angles. Booth saw her pale reflection illuminated by the special glow of the lights above the mirrors, and had to fight to look away.

"I'm going to start with you, Booth." Gabrielle said, smiling. Brennan rolled her eyes. But there was more. "I'm going to finish faster with you."

Booth didn't even hear her, he was looking at a picture stuck to the frame of one of the mirrors. Brennan walked over to him and looked at it too.

And put a supporting had on his arm, to hold herself up and to let him know she was there, not tied up waiting to die, not in danger for him to save.

Special Agent Jamie Kenton was smiling for the camera, getting ready to go on an undercover mission with the mob. He didn't know he'd try and murder a woman just for the better pay gangsters offered him in a few years. He had no idea. He was just grinning happily.

"What is it?" Laura, the make-up specialist said.

Booth took Brennan's hand from his arm and just held it, strong enough to hurt, but she didn't care. "Kenton." Booth growled.

"He was a good actor. He would have gone far." Gabrielle said.  
"He's in prison for the most of the rest of his life, and deserves more than what he got." Booth said, wrenching his eyes from the picture and looking at Brennan instead. "Shall we do this or what?"

"Come with me, Dr Brennan." Laura said, lithely taking Brennan's arm and walking her to a seat in front of the best illuminated mirror. Booth was swept away to another room for wardrobe, followed by Ria and Gabrielle.

"Your make up is relatively simple, provided you learn how to apply it yourself. Gabi said, and I agree, that this is a matter of quantity with style. Your character isn't a rich, sophisticated woman, that is what she's trying to appear to be. So bright colours…" As she spoke, Laura pointed out several shades of eye-shadow, eye-liner, lipstick, lip gloss, mascara, and powder. She seemed very happy to have the chance to apply actual, proper make-up, and not just dirt of grime to disguise another Agent. "Red for the lips, of course, and for the eyes, you have a beautiful colour, by the way… bright blues, greens, this hot pink is nice, yes? Purple… I had a purple one somewhere here…"

The next hour was spent trying not to imagine what Booth, Gabrielle and Ria were doing, and what clothes a high-profile gangster would wear. Laura and two of her assistants applied every single combination imaginable, scrubbed Brennan's face back to normal, and after some cream did it all over again. She already knew perfectly well how to add make-up, and had learnt the hard way that people tend to take you more seriously if you look awake, alert and pretty. But this was… well… a very vast quantity indeed. And so many brand names with meaningless chromodistinctive patterns, all of which served to objectify women and degrade social morays.

But if applying proper make-up was part of the job, as much as Brennan disliked it, she took it very seriously. She asked questions, tried doing it all by herself twice, and was successful on both attempts. Laura was kind and gentle, and her soft hands transformed the anthropologist into another person.

The slightest smudge around the eyes hinted at one thing, and the bright red of the lips at another. After the sixty minutes had passed in full, and the large room looked much more crowded than before, Brennan felt ready and beautiful. Her eyes looked much larger, even though they were surrounded by black, which made the blue shine brighter than before. Long eyelashes swished in the air like scimitars every time she blinked. Her pale face was kept that way without blush, simply made smooth and perfect, to draw attention to the full lips.

"Excellent. Just remember who you're playing, and you'll be fine." Laura said encouragingly. Brennan nodded and smiled, and stood to leave for her hair. The saloon was certainly unusually full of people now: more assistants than strictly necessary, a couple of wandering secretaries and… even a few Agents!

Booth had hidden in the adjacent room with the wardrobe, but Brennan felt exposed in full view of every person who had given in to general curiosity. She wanted to shout at them that this wasn't a special event, just two people getting ready for a deep cover mission. Apparently no one had told them.

She didn't know that that was the exact reason everyone was there. Or that bets had begun taking place the second it was announced a female officer was needed for the operation, and that Dr Brennan would take her place. Today was "Before and After" day, with polls ranging from the inches Booth's jaw would drop when seeing the good doctor transformed into a lady of the night, to the possibility of a hot make-out session right in front of everyone.

Lex, the bald hair dresser, motioned for Brennan to join him in another chair next to a sink, on the opposite corner of the room. She sat, ignoring furtive glances and the low hubbub of conversation, not low enough for her to avoid hearing "She looks _so_ hot… Poor Seel, this one's going to be the death of him." From an Agent she didn't know (and had no more desire to meet, either).

"You look stunning." Lex said, smiling at her.  
"Thank you."

"I think we're going to dye your hair, Dr Brennan. By the way, big fan of your novels."  
She smiled, liking him. "What colour?"

"Black, I think. I considered blonde for a second, but it doesn't go with your face, I think black will bring out your eyes… we'll try and see, okay?"

"I have already forsaken any kind of control over this situation as it is."

"Perfect. Then I'm afraid you're at my mercy."

One hundred minutes for hair. Booth was called for something to do with an assignment from his work shortly after she'd sat down and washed her hair. He left in a blur that might have hidden a dark blue suit and the flash of an earring, but was too quick for Brennan to see.

One hundred minutes. By the end of those, her scalp felt sore, but her hair looked fantastic. It was left long and a little bigger than usual, and it was a dark, rich black which looked perfectly authentic. Lex said the dye wouldn't fade for at least a month, so she should be fine for two weeks.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, the lights shining full on her face, Brennan couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. She wasn't herself anymore, she was someone else, someone stylish with a hint of decadence, someone glamorous yet reachable… someone she didn't recognise. She was Angel.

"Fantastic. I love it." Lex said, making her stand and walking around her, looking at her clinically. "I absolutely love it. Laura!"

Laura had been cleaning up in her corner of the room, but came the moment she was called. "What do you think?" Lex asked.

"She's brilliant. The pose, even… I can't wait to see your wardrobe! It's perfect. Believable, subtle. You look incredible, Dr Brennan." Laura gushed.

Brennan was feeling a bit embarrassed at all the attention to her physique. But this was something she'd have to get used to, so she smiled charmingly. "Thank you."

"Ria will be waiting for you, I think Agent Booth will get here soon, once he's cleared up that issue with the Orleans case."

"What Orleans case?" Brennan asked.

"It's Agent Perry's case, actually, but he's just asking Booth for advice." Lex put in.

"Oh."

"Dr Brennan?" A voice called from the other room, door ajar.

"That's Ria. She and Gabrielle will try the clothes you'll wear on you." Laura said. "And Gabrielle will give the okay on your new look, I hope." She added nervously.

"Okay." The room was small and cosy, and there were clothes everywhere. In hangers, on the floor, in hangers on the floor, piled neatly in shelves or strewn unceremoniously over the back of a chair. There was a wooden bench poking out of a particularly impressive stack of shoeboxes.

Brennan strode over to the wardrobe mistress, hoping to wear something a little decent. But they weren't high hopes.

And so, when dashed, didn't disappoint much.

Gabrielle was ruthless.

"Close the door behind you and take off all your clothes." She said sharply the moment Brennan entered the room. "Nice hair, Lex did a great job."

The anthropologist didn't answer, but started undressing.

"You have a fantastic figure, dear." Ria said over her shoulder, sorting through racks of clothes of all kinds. Bright flashes of colour winked at Brennan now and then.

"Get on with it, you have a special wardrobe." Gabrielle drawled, and her voice was no longer the chirpy, bright tone of before. The way she said the word 'special' sounded… threatening.

Finally, Brennan stood in her underwear, refusing to show even a hint of reluctance or shyness. Refusing to show any weak emotion at all, before this woman.

"Here we go…" Ria put three dresses in Brennan's arms and five more in Gabrielle's. "I think this style is perfect for her. I hate sequins, no sequins for you, I want good materials, yes? Good stuff, but flashy stuff?" Ria looked at Gabrielle for confirmation.

"Very good, Ria. Just remember, always in character." Her tone changed when she addressed Brennan again. "Try the pink one first."

Brennan wasn't someone who wore pink, as a general rule. But this dress… it was a semi translucent material which _hinted_ at a lot but didn't technically reveal much. They weren't vague hints, though. They were the kind of hint you usually see coming, and immediately get. Waggled eyebrows, suggestive smile and all that.

Hint hint.

"With a red or a pink bra this is perfect." Gabrielle said in a business-like tone. "Take it off."

Who knew dressing and undressing could be tiring? Apparently, when you do this for an hour, it is. Dress after dress, short pants, thin skirts, tight shirts, _leather_, belts, purses, hats, sunglasses, boots, high heels, tops, bra's, lingerie, and then all of the jewellery: earrings, necklaces, bangles, rings…

In a rustle of rich fabrics the time passed…

But by the end, they had it. Size, patrons, colour combination and six pairs of shoes to wear. Angel didn't pack light, apparently.

Brennan stood wearing the final dress for the first day. Obviously a first impression was important, and Ria and Gabrielle had decided on a very special dress. It was creamy white, a pure, silky fabric that came down to her thighs. Her shoes were ruby red high heels. This in itself wasn't provocative, but the front of the dress was a very, very wide U which revealed a specifically chosen red bra. Revealed quite a lot, in fact, because around her chest the material was loose and in waves, only clinging when it reached the waist. The effect on looking at her (and this Brennan judged herself as she dared a glance in the mirror) was mind scrambling.

The shocks of red and white, passion and purity, red lips, red bra, red shoes, white dress, pale skin and big, big blue eyes… even Gabrielle nodded solemnly.

"You are perfect." She said.

On the last syllable of the word (it's 'fect', by the way), Booth burst into the room saying. "Sorry about that, Perry's been having…" When he saw her, and it didn't take long because she was the first thing he saw, instantly, always, everywhere…

He stumbled, righted himself, and shut the door with a slam. His eyes swept over her lazily, stroking her skin with fiery hands. Except he hadn't really moved. "… trouble."

The word lay discarded where he tossed it with a low growl, and Brennan felt that she was going to understand what it meant to 'lose her head' finally for the first time in her life because of this assignment.

Suddenly she didn't know whether she could _pretend_ anything… because she wouldn't have to.

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_**People have been asking for details about the case! This chap clears more stuff, but I promise the **__**next will have all the info you can handle (without being boring, duh!)**_

_**So… hands up who wants to see this last scene continued!!!!**_

_**GoldenNinde: "Oh, me, me me!!"**_

_**GoldenNinde: "I'm the one WRITING this!"**_

_**GoldenNinde: "Ah. Yes, that's true."**_

_**GoldenNinde**__**: "Do I think now is a good time to ask for reviews?"**_

_**GoldenNinde: "Nah, they got your point. Just hope they come up with the reviews on their own without having to beg again."  
GoldenNinde: "Good idea. Let's go before they think we're insane."**_


	4. Totally and completely ridiculous

_**Sorry about the delay!**_

_**Trying really hard to write Unintended + this story properly = need a bit more time. I hope this was worth the wait! : )**_

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**CHAPTER ****4: Totally and completely ridiculous**

He felt a little drunk.

Which was ridiculous, he hadn't had a drink all week, but she left him disoriented and off-balance. That moment when she'd put her hands on his neck and he rested his forehead against hers… it had taken a lot of effort not to do something ridiculously _stupid_.

The way her breath tasted was a million times worse (or better) than alcohol. And boy, he'd been close enough to taste all right. And smell her body and feel her hair brushing his face… the sweep of her eyelashes was new, and he'd loved that too.

His mind replayed the moment when he felt the ridiculous need to touch her, to be closer to her than before. Gabrielle made him try on about a thousand different outfits, which he found ridiculous. He also thought it was ridiculous how much he missed her, seeing as she was in the next room, and he'd seen her an hour ago.

Pathetic, Seel. A new level of ridiculous.

"Seeley, are you hearing me?"

"What is it, Gabi?"

She smiled invitingly, and stepped closer. "Take that shirt off."

He knew Gabrielle loved flirting with him, but she didn't really fancy him. And he knew why she never would: fifteen years ago, when she was just a make-up assistant, she fell in love with Special Agent Gregor Harris, a married man and happy father of two. He died in the field, and she wasn't the same again.

"Try this one now." Ria said kindly, handing him a plain black shirt with no buttons.

"How am I supposed to wear this?"

"Open, honey."

He raised his eyebrows and examined himself in the mirror. It looked kind of cool, especially with the white trousers he was wearing.

"Great, we have another match. Now try this suit."

It was dark blue, and looked good too. But then Ria offered an earring.

"What?" He took a step back, grinning. "No way. I'm not wearing a stud."

"Why not? It's not you, it's Hollywood Rob!" Gabrielle said, also smiling.

"I said no. I'll wear a chain around my neck, that's okay."

"Come on, Seeley."

"Nope, I'm putting my foot down on this one."

"It's not really your-"

"Agent Booth?"

His secretary stood at the door, blushing and not looking at him, or his exposed chest. "What is it, Martha?"

"Agent Perry requested your help, it's about the Orleans case. I told him you were in the middle of a-"

"That's okay, I'll be right back." He told Gabrielle, taking a chance for a break… finally.

She saw the opportunity when he was turned and quickly stuck the silver hoop on his ear, clicking the fake stud before he could protest.

"I'm taking this off when I get back." He said, rolling his eyes.

"We'll see about that." Gabrielle said, laughing. "It looks great, Seeley."

"No it doesn't."

He opened the door to the main room, leaving both women behind him with exasperated expressions.

He couldn't hold back a tingle of nervous anticipation. Seeing Brennan in full undercover regalia would be…

Wait.

Just wait one second. Bad thoughts. No, no no. It would be bad. Seeing Bones in full undercover regalia would be very, _very_ bad, especially if he was supposed to go help someone with something about work. Which made one glad _work _had nothing to do with going undercover, right?

Fantastic, Seel.

So at the last second, he turned away from where he thought she sat and sprinted out of the room, hoping she was too busy to catch him running away like the coward that he was. Once outside, however, his slow-working brain finally registered just how many people were literally queuing to come in. What was going on?

"What are you all waiting for?" he asked the crowd, feeling confused. Most of them were men, but he saw a few women, too. Martha followed him outside and, sensing what would happen before he did, swiftly walked away.

Suddenly everyone was busy looking away, whistling (yes, seriously) and ignoring him. "Hey, I said- …Kant?"

Special Agent Jack Kant grinned sheepishly and looked uncomfortable. "Hey Booth." They'd worked together on a couple of cases, and Booth had always thought of him as a decent guy.

"What are you doing here? Why the sudden interest in…?" And suddenly it hit him. "Oh wait. You _wouldn't_…"

"I-"

"You all came here just to eyeball my partner in a dress?" his tone sounded a lot more menacing than he'd intended. Really.

"Booth, we-"

"Get out, you fucking repressed perverts. Out." He tried not to swear in front of her. But now…well, he felt like swearing all right.

"Come on, man, Dr Brennan as a prostitute?" Another Agent who was (clearly) not from his department pleaded. Kant kicked him in the shins, hard, but it was no use. "I'd pay to-"

Booth stepped right up to the man's face until their noses were almost touching. "What? What were you about to say?" WARNING, WARNING, WARNING...

Unfortunately (for him) the Agent was unimpressed.

"I was going to say I'd pay to see her all-"

Booth used a pretty simple kick to the back of the knee to drop the guy on the floor. It wasn't painful, unless humiliation hurt, but it got Booth's point across.

"Everybody out." he said loudly. "Go do real work. Go. And if I hear a single poll is going on I swear I'm going to drown you in paperwork until you talk binary, and _that's_ when I'll shoot you!"

A few people laughed, but most of them left. At least there was no longer a line to go inside, even though lots of people were already in and looking around innocently.

Booth stalked away to his office, grumbling under his breath the entire time. Poor Bones. He hoped to solve Agent Perry's mess soon and to get everyone else out, so he could juggle with his conflicting feelings for his partner quite alone.

*

It took longer than he'd thought. It wasn't Perry's first big haul, but paperwork in Orleans was still difficult to process, and handling a case there could be complicated. So by the time he came back, Laura, the make up specialist, and Lex, the hairdresser, gave him equal looks of reproach.

"She's in there-" Lex began, but Booth ignored him and ran to say sorry to Gabrielle.

He burst into the room, apology at hand.

"Sorry about that, Perry's been having…"

Then he saw _her_, and it didn't take long because she was the first thing he saw, instantly, always, everywhere…

And he couldn't distinguish the subtle effect of passion and purity, because all he saw were the colours of fire, and red, he saw red… He stumbled, righted himself, and shut the door with a slam. His eyes swept over her lazily, stroking her skin with fiery hands. Except he hadn't really moved. "… trouble."

The word lay discarded where he tossed it with a low growl, and the silence which followed it could have been cut in half. Because… _man_.

He'd been feeling queasy before. Drunk, he'd thought. But that was nothing, _nothing_ to what he felt now. His head pounded, and with every beat of his heart the blood pumped his body full of adrenalin, of the need to move and move now. He couldn't rip his eyes off of her: the eyes, the face, the lips, the chest, dear God those hips and the perfect, infinite legs…

He felt like a charged battery, and standing there was taking up all of his energy at the moment. Standing there, still, without doing more to her than look was slowly killing him. Standing there…

Scratch all that: merely _standing_ was hard enough. Anything else he didn't do (fall down, run to her, run away, kiss her…) was gravy.

Then he blinked once. Twice. Several times, so that instant darkness might clear his thoughts and maybe, just maybe he could look at something that wasn't his totally and completely forbidden partner.

In the end, if it hadn't been for her, he probably wouldn't have made it. By 'made it' meaning neither of them would remove a single piece of clothing, nor would they have sex. Right here, right now.

Wouldn't.

Later he'd think how perfectly ridiculous it was that the sight of his partner could make him react like a love-crazed teenager, but really. It wasn't the sight of his totally and completely forbidden partner. It was the feelings that sight triggered: the love, the lust, the totally and completely forbidden desire. And the knowledge that he'd be spending two weeks, two entire weeks, battling those feelings alone.

"What kind of trouble?" she asked, and he knew he hadn't imagined the breathless catch in her voice as she spoke.

He tried to remember what he'd been talking about… because he knew exactly what kind of trouble he was in now.

"You look great, Bones." He managed to blurt out, even attempting a smile.

"Thank you." Finally her eyes left his and she seemed to blush a little. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other and he couldn't, totally and completely _shouldn't_ groan aloud…

"You look very… you look…" she couldn't find an adjective. What was wrong with them? She panicked, searching her mind for a word, one that wasn't wrong, one that a partner could say to another without sounding confused… except her mind was confused, too…

"Thanks."

This conversation wasn't exactly one for the books.

"Okaaaay, now we've got that out of the way, Dr Brennan take off the dress." Gabrielle said loudly, clearly annoyed.

Wait, had she just said…?

Brennan spun around, and thanks to the reflection in the mirror Booth saw the expression of total horror on her face. He was sure his would be a good replica.

"Now?"

"Yes, and give me the bra, too, I'll buy a couple of-"

"I'll just wait outside." Booth put in firmly. And slammed the door behind him.

He would fail.

He was crazy, letting her come. He was insane. This was the proof that he'd finally lost it, and that they would both get themselves killed because he couldn't be in love with her, no way could he ask anything without a 'please' attached to the request, how could he concentrate at all on the job with her around?, they'd ruin their careers if they managed to get out alive, he would fail, he would fail, he would fail fail fail.

Totally and completely.

*

"Booth?"

She emerged in her own clothes, the same jeans and green V neck, but the eyes and the hair were untouched. He gulped and looked away from her. His refuge had been anger as a child: anger at life, anger at the world, anger at his father.

He was suddenly irrationally angry at her.

"_What_, Bones?"

"You look pale. Are you feeling okay…?"

"I'm fine, Bones. Don't… you don't have to…"

She removed her hand from his forehead quickly, knowing she shouldn't have done it, but often her concern for him simply ignored every other feeling and acted on its own.

"Sorry. I was just trying to judge whether you had a fever." Her tone was icy cold, and she looked mad. He had no right to treat her the way he did, but he was only human and she…

"So do you feel ready?" his tone was sarcastic and mocking. "Are you quite prepared to face everything, now?"

"Don't-"

"You look delicious. You really do, but tell me, will that be enough for-?"

"Stop it." She said firmly. The tension around them was almost something tangible. She grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong hand, and shoved at him angrily. Ria and Gabrielle had the sense not to come out after her, and Laura and Lex had already left the room, having finished cleaning up. They were essentially alone in the wide space, but together they filled it all.

"Stop being mean at me just because you have personal problems. I don't know what's happened to you during the past hours, but stop acting out on _me_. It's not my fault."

Yes it is! He wanted to scream that it was, but really it wasn't. It was his own damn fault. And he couldn't be angry. The ridiculous emotion left as quickly as it had come, and he felt like an idiot.

"I'm sorry, Bones-"

"I know." She said wearily. "It's okay, you weren't really angry, I know that."

"Thank you."

Suddenly he couldn't resist stepping forward and embracing her, holding tight to her body, like he was afraid the slightest decrease of pressure would let her fly away from him. She hugged him back, just as strongly, and let her hands trace soothing patterns on his broad back. "We'll be okay. We can do this. I'm ready to do this, Booth. You have to trust me."

"I do. You know I do."

He breathed in her smell and she cringed when she felt the action against her neck, because it was horribly sexual and the worst thing was that it wasn't horrible at all.

"So…" she stepped back, determined to lift whatever burden had settled on his shoulders this time. "I look delicious?"

He gave a strangled sort of laugh, and started walking away. She followed him, knowing he had to take her home. "It's an unusual adjective do describe a person, don't you think?"

"Bones, I haven't slept in thirty hours. Cut me some slack."

They got into the elevator to go down to the parking lot, and suddenly she was really curious. She abandoned her joke, and genuinely wanted to know: "I know synesthesia is often used as a rhetorical form in writing, to describe an object's smell with a colour, or a picture with a sound, but to describe a person's look… with a taste…?"

She trailed away, hoping he'd explain, but the laugh had left his face and his jaw was clenched.

She tried again. "If you were describing the way I-"

"I'm tired, Bones. Get it? I said I haven't slept in thirty hours to mean I'm _tired_."

His voice was flat and expressionless, and she knew now was the moment to stop. A part of her wished she could press the issue, something she might have done four years ago when she didn't know him. Sometimes, rarely, she missed that uncaring Temperance, and now was one of those times. She wished she could ask and pick and nose until he yelled the answer angrily at her, but at least she'd finally know.

"Okay." Her voice was soft and even though she tried to hide it, the hurt was evident in her tone.

Booth sighed, feeling more horrible by the minute.

"Come here."

He put his hands on either side of her face and their eyes met. And he knew and she knew that they both thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn't, he pressed her forehead against his again, and took a deep breath.

"Sometimes I act stupid, Bones. I'm sorry about that. More than you know. It's completely my fault, and I want you to call me on them every time, okay? From now on, do as you did today and tell me. You have to understand that I… think you're one of the best things in my life now."

She hoped he didn't hear a small, sharp intake of breath.

"And that I'd never want to hurt you. But if I do, then I hope you can forgive me even though I don't really deserve it."

"Booth, it's okay."

She didn't say anything else. Didn't make a speech, didn't elaborate.

When they drew apart, he kissed her forehead tenderly, and she knew they were going to be all right from now on.

Their friendship was stronger than anything.

Sadly this was one of the rare times in her life when Temperance Brennan was totally and completely wrong. There was one thing… one thing that was stronger than their friendship. And frankly, it was _ridiculous_ that neither of them had figured out yet what that was.

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_**Coming up next: The last session with Sweets**__**, more preparation of the coolest fun kind (just let me say hiding weapons/guns is involved… ;), more insight into the case, and the day the assignment begins is dawning ever closer…**_

_**I don't know how many times I wrote "totally and completely" in this update, nor the number of times the word "ridiculous" came up, either. I just know I'm not going to be using them again for a while, because I've over-used my quota for the story in a single chapter!**_


	5. Hide

_**Have you ever **__**thought: today, I want to write something smuffy (smutty + fluffy)? I have. I woke up today and thought: I have the final scene for Chapter 5 of Deep Cover. It's going to be awesome, but short and brimming with UST. Especially U (but also ST, of course)!**_

_**When you read it, you'll understand.**__** *winks***_

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**CHAPTER ****5: Hide**

He drove her home and they didn't talk much, but it was contemplating, amiable silence. Tomorrow was the last session with Sweets, and then the last day…

She turned to him and didn't speak, simply observed. He'd left in the wrong clothes: he still wore that dark blue suit, and the gold earring flashed merrily in the light from the streetlamps intermittently illuminating the car.

Still without saying anything, she extended her arm and gently plucked the earring out. It didn't really look bad on him, but it was… (there really didn't exist another word for the feeling): "_weird_".

"Crap." He said suddenly, looking down at his suit. She didn't know, but since seeing her he'd completely forgotten that the clothes he wore weren't his. You know, along with forgetting how not to kiss her.

Good thing he remembered, now.

"You can take it to them tomorrow, Booth." She said, unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

"She'll kill me. She'll take off the suit so it doesn't get bloodstained and then she'll _kill_ me!" he groaned.

Brennan laughed. "Gabrielle?"

"Of course Gabrielle, who else? I'm such an idiot… in one day I've managed to do most of the top ten stupidest things I'll probably do in the rest of this year."

"That sentence was grammatically lacking." She commented, still grinning.

"What? No it wasn't…! It was in no way grammatically lacking! It's was perfectly well-construed, thank you very much, in any case it was _literarily_ lacking because some scientists may find my complicated reasoning hard to understand…"

"Does 'some scientists' include me? Or do I differ from that norm in a way, Agent Booth?"

"You? Differ from the norm?" for a second there was a glint in his eyes, a dangerous light that made Brennan shiver. But then he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and added: "Dr Brennan, I beg to propose the possibility of you acquiescing the factoid that…"

They spent the rest of the ride speaking in increasingly ridiculous vocabulary and laughing like two teenagers in love.

But they weren't…

Teenagers.

*

"Agent Booth, you're early. Don't you always accompany Dr Brennan?"

Sweets panicked for a moment: it was his fault, their relationship was already beginning to dysfunction, he'd ruined them, he'd broken them with this assignment, he wasn't fit to be a therapist, he should just resign…

"Yeah, but today she comes straight from the lab and I had work until five. It's ten past, so cut us some slack." The psychologist couldn't detect a hint of doubt or unease in Booth, and felt himself in turn ease at his words. They were fine. At the moment, they were doing good.

"How did it go, yesterday?"

Suddenly the Agent's face became unreadable. He looked serious, and very… tired. Sweets tensed again.

"Fine. It went great. Bones looks amazing."

"That's wonderful, Booth."

"Yeah, it's great." Booth nodded wearily and looked away.

"So did miss Anor prep you too?"

"Yeah. She wanted to make me wear and earring. Bones hated it."

At this Booth's face regained some emotion, and he smiled to himself, like he was remembering a precious memory. Sweets wondered whether such a look of love and tenderness could really go unnoticed by anyone.

"I take it Miss Anor didn't succeed?"

"No. I just returned it and refused point blank. I don't wear earrings. It just doesn't happen. Gabi was annoyed, but she'll live."

Sweets smiled too and, for the first time in his life, caught himself feeling jealous of Agent Booth. He had so many reasons to envy the man: his looks, his confidence, his ease around women: a special draw that made every female in a room turn to look at him, his incredible strength (both physical and psychological), courage, honour, determination… there were a million things Sweets could want for himself. But he'd never felt jealous of Booth before.

Until now, when he realised that Booth had Brennan.

Obviously he'd known, since the first moment he saw them, that they were meant to be together in that rare, fairy-tale like sort of way. But now, reading Booth's expression, it was clear that the day when the fact became evident to both of them was closer than ever. Because, one way or the other, things would have to change between them, as solid as their friendship was, this dynamic was fragile and dangerous.

He had her and she had him, they had each other and Sweets didn't _have_ anyone like that. Not like that, so intimately and so specially. He'd had girlfriends, of course, but never someone… no, never like that. The look quietly contained in his friend's face was a look Sweets had never felt.

And finally, the doubts about their ability to handle the case evaporated. The danger it posed was high-risk, but there was no reason for anyone to doubt their cover. And as far as their acting went… they were pros. Both of them. Their feelings could handle the little shake: it might even act as the catalyst. How could Sweets have thought they weren't ready?

They always had been.

"What is it?" Booth asked, snapping Sweets out of his reverie. The man was perceptive, you have to give him that. "Sweets, you looked kind of… nostalgic."

Before Sweets could try and defend himself, Booth made light of the situation. It was almost as if he'd known that Sweets didn't want to talk about it. Had he?

"You'd think, being ten, you didn't have an opportunity to be nostalgic yet."

"Ten? I thought we settled on twelve? Why am I being shrunk two years?"

Booth laughed.

At that moment, Brennan entered the room.

"What are you two laughing about?" she said amiably, closing the door behind her. Sweets was speechless for a few seconds, and hoped Booth could answer for him. Because… wow.

The dark hair. It looked… fantastic, but unlike her. Brennan, but not Brennan, someone a little different. She hadn't put on much make-up, but her eyes shone out of her face like blue headlights. Spectacular. Blinding.

Oh, _wow_… poor Booth.

"What?" she repeated, noting both stunned glances uncomfortably.

Neither man had actually answered her question, and Brennan realised something must be wrong. Probably something to do with her, because she was the new variable in the room.

Booth saw her expression darken before Sweets did. "Nothing, Bones. Just Sweets, being all… shrinky."

She knew he was lying, but didn't comment, and managed an honest smile. Booth happy was something that inevitably lead to her being infected by his mood.

"Please sit down, Brennan. We don't have much time, today."

"I apologise for being late." She said quickly. "But I got delayed with a very intriguing body from Limbo…"

"Intriguing how?" Booth said curiously.

"Well, it was a young man from the early forties, a very well-preserved specimen. His femur was fractured in two places. I couldn't figure out by what. His body was healthy, the bone structure undamaged by disease, so for a femur to brake… the femur is the strongest bone in our body, I simply couldn't understand the pattern of micro fractures, and it was the only bone broken. It wasn't compression, or mere brutal force, and certainly not from a fall."

"What was it?" she had captured her partner's attention, and Sweets had to admit that his was peaked too. Brennan had a way of speaking sometimes, when the teacher and author in her shone through and her voice held the audience spellbound, totally at her mercy.

"In the end, Angela helped me. Hodgins had found some particulate matter around the wound that clearly suggested iron, and we composed the most likely scenario to explain the young man's death."

"Which was…?" Booth said grinning.

"I don't know yet. But we know it wasn't a knife or saw."

Booth laughed. "When you figure it out, tell me."

"Of course."

"Back to the matter at hand, people?" Sweets said.

"In order to go back to the matter we would have needed to discuss it previously." Brennan said, nevertheless moving to sit more comfortably against the back of the couch.

"Let's talk about yesterday."

This simple sentence got some pretty impressive reactions. Booth flashed a warning look that spelled '_You betrayed me. I thought we made it clear yesterday was a forbidden topic_' and his arms crossed defensively. Brennan's face was more difficult to read, because she retreated to a blank, poker-face look of absolute impassivity. Which told the real tale, of course.

Neither spoke.

"I have to say your hair looks great, Dr Brennan."

"Thank you." She said curtly. This opinion was clearly shared by Booth, whose guard cracked for a second at he sneaked a look at his partner out of the corner of his eye.

"Agent Booth said Miss Anor tried to make him wear an earring."

Stony silence.

"What did you think?"

When Brennan didn't answer, but let her eyes flicker to the right just a moment. "It was out of character." Booth put in. "And Hollywood Rob is ostentatious, yeah, but not quite so flashy. He has Angel for that."

Brennan raised her eyebrows at him, the blank expression dissolving as their eyes met.

"Besides, it looked weird."

Sweets nodded, wanting to steer the subject back to what had happened yesterday. Why the sudden tension? He could imagine, of course, but…

Well, he had a job to do, as much as he'd love to know the workings of his friends' minds, he must prepare them for the mission.

"As I'm sure Booth already knows, the strain of a mission like this one is difficult to bear. In my professional opinion, relying on each other is the best way for you to fight that strain. I already know that your partnership is built on trust and I'm counting on your strength to maintain that trust, no matter how difficult the circumstances. But obviously it will affect the way you regard one another if you spend an entire day treating each other so differently than you normally do. So what I'd recommend is a few minutes, before going to sleep, of normal conversation. Not just the necessary time to take down notes on the day, compare your experiences and stuff, but just talk, the two of you, to re-ground your relationship."

Brennan was frowning, and Booth was looking at the wall behind Sweets angrily.

"But, Dr Sweets…" she began haltingly. "I don't understand. You are giving our relationship too much importance in this instance. Isn't the most difficult and… 'straining' thing here the _case_ we're facing? I thought all those powerful men, that unfamiliar atmosphere would be the cause for alarm, and not mine and Booth's… feelings."

She couldn't miss the look that passed between Sweets and Booth. Her gaze sharpened and she unconsciously shifted a little to the left, suspiciously away from Booth.

"What is it?"

They didn't answer.

"Would you please just respect me enough to tell me what's happening? I'm not a child who has to be coddled, you know. I'm a capable adult, and whatever it is that you two know and I don't, I'd appreciate if you told me. Now."

Her tone was mixed with fury, hurt, pain and annoyance. Mostly fury, to hide all the others. When Sweets didn't say anything, for the first time in his life rendered speechless in his own office, Brennan turned away from him, disgusted. "Booth, trust me." She said. "I don't understand. Trust me and please, just tell me."

Booth felt lost. Lost in his own emotions, in her beauty, in her strength and intelligence and her will to find the truth. Lost in the doubts, too, the doubts and the fear of the consequences. He knew why Sweets wanted to stress on their relationship, he knew Sweets had already figured out what Booth felt for his partner, but he didn't want her to know. So what to say? He couldn't lie to her, not now.

Here? He was supposed to tell her the truth here, with a witness, in these horrible circumstances? He'd imagined telling her a million times, useless dreams but still he'd wished he could do it. Mostly he imagined whispering it to her right before he died, and regretting not having told her sooner.

"Bones, I-"

"Dr Brennan it's my fault." Sweets said quickly, finally realising what had almost happened. "I'm sorry. To me, feelings are always the most important part. I'm a psychologist, after all. I'm so concerned with your partnership, that it stays the same, that I got carried away. I'm sorry. I never meant to imply you couldn't understand me."

He hadn't answered her question and he hadn't told her what it was that both he and Booth knew but she didn't.

But Brennan did know one thing. She knew it so deeply and secretly that sometimes she caught herself wanting to pretend she didn't know, at all. But she knew.

Sweets knew Booth's secret, and Booth knew Booth's secret. But no one knew Brennan's, sometimes not even herself.

So she didn't say anything more.

*

"So was that the awkwardest you've ever felt?" Booth asked the moment the door shut behind them. Brennan cast him a sidelong glance and was relieved to see he looked confident, and was smiling lopsidedly at her.

"No, it wasn't. And awkwardest isn't a word." she said enigmatically, and didn't elaborate.

"What- Wait, then when?" She smiled with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and Booth groaned. "Bones don't-"

"It's a secret."

"Aw, come on, Bones, please tell me. I'll be wondering what it is all day!"

"If I told you it would no longer be a secret."

"Wrong. It would be a secret we both shared, but still a secret. Promise!"

"No, Booth… it's personal…"

They kept bickering comfortably all the way back to Miss Anor's studio. After Sweets' session, they still had one last step to prepare themselves. It wasn't about the look, the acting, or the characters this time, however.

It was about being armed, and how to hide the fact.

No muscle was allowed in the meeting, even though Hollywood Rob had apparently wanted to bring at least a couple of men. The rules were the strictest possible: it was an occasion for parlay, so no muscle, no weapons, just good company for fun.

'Good company' meant women like Angel, of course, so that front was covered.

The 'no muscle' rule was difficult to break and would antagonise the others if they were discovered, plus it required another Agent to act as a bodyguard for them. The FBI wasn't planning on risking that, so they would respect that condition.

But the 'no weapons' rule would be easy to hide and Booth knew that every man coming would break it. That much was obvious, and expected. So Hollywood Rob would be no different, and that was what they were going to ready for now. As Booth's train of thought led him to concealed weapons and a Wonder Woman costume, he knew he was a goner for the next few minutes with her.

"Bones…" he said, a smile still on his face, but something had most definitely changed. "Do you think you'll get a gun this time?"

"I was already notified of that fact. And yes, I will." She looked positively gloating.

"Where will you hide it?"

Brennan stopped walking, thinking that perhaps if her hearing wasn't hindered by external motor functions she might be able to process his words. "What do you mean?" she settled for finally. He turned on her and she instinctively took a step backward, so her back collided with the wall. But Booth smiled flirtatiously and moved a step forward, not letting her get away.

"It's just, with that dress… where would you keep a gun? Or any weapons, for that matter?"

"Miss Anor said I would be armed." She was hesitant to directly address the issue at hand. The _issue_ being Booth's unusual interest in her body.

And dress.

And spaces in between.

"But really Bones…" a shadow of the look he'd had when he saw her yesterday made her shiver. His eyes raked her body. "… I could see _everything_ through that cloth."

"Everything?" She pressed her palms against the cold wall behind her to steady her pulse.

"Everything." He whispered, knowing he'd want to punch himself later but being unable to care at the moment. Her pull was inevitable, inescapable, and he liked that blush of colour on her cheeks now, a blush he'd caused. In fact, he loved that blush very much. So much his chest hurt a little when she smiled.

And for a second, his eyes weren't quite as smouldering as they had been a second before, because he was disarmed completely by the adorable, shy hesitance of her posture, almost innocent. That was when she saw her chance to get back at him, and took it.

"If you could see everything, answer me this: what colour was the bra?" She pushed herself off of the wall and he stumbled back, almost colliding with a technician walking to his office.

"Red." He croaked, once he'd regained his footing.

"What about…" she didn't say panties. Her jeans were low slung, and a small strip of black underwear was just visible. She tugged at it and let go with a snap, but it was obvious what she meant. Booth stopped walking backwards and felt his jaw go slack.

"Also red." He managed.

"Wrong." She said, and began walking away, hips swaying, thinking that for the first time in a very long time she felt… perfect. "They were pink, Booth."

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_**Okay so in the end this was too long and I had to cut it. So the NEXT chap involves the actual hiding of weapons. Which is really fun, I promise!!!**_

_**What about THIS chap? **__**Was this fun? Booth and Bones being all sexy is always fun to me, but what did you think??? ;)**_


	6. and Seek

_**Okay, here it FINALLY is!!!**_

_**I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm SO sorry!!! Please don't kill me, some of you may have seen I was in Prague for 2 weeks and then when I got back I wanted to write Unintended (which I hadn't for way too long).**__** Plus some personal stuff, but I'm not going to bore you with that.**_

_**I love you for being patient (eh**__**em… most of you!) and not nagging me (um… almost all of you)!!!**_

_**I know you guys appreciate me taking the time to make it good… right?**_

_**Love ya!**_

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**CHAPTER 6: … and Seek**

Their walk to Gabrielle Anor's department was quite comical, at least for the outside person passing by. Brennan walked independently, long legs covering distances quickly and firmly, never looking back. There was a slight smile on her lips and a confidence in her stride which hadn't been there in a long time, not since she'd begun letting Booth see her for who she was.

The dear Agent, on the other hand, followed her in a kind of daze, eyes unfocused, occasionally colliding with furniture, walls, and people, although the latter were smart enough to try and get out of the way.

"You're late." Gabrielle snapped the moment Brennan entered her studio, which was empty except for them.

"I apologise." Booth croaked from behind, his mind still elsewhere. "It was my fault."

"Yes, it was." Brennan said, laughter colouring her tone. It was obvious something had happened, but Gabrielle was smart enough not to comment and simply settled for rolling her eyes.

"Let's get going, then."

"Going where?" Brennan asked, suspicious.

"I just meant let's start… oh forget it. Follow me."

She led them to the small room where they'd tried their new clothes, but Ria, the wardrobe mistress, wasn't there. Someone else was waiting.

"This is-"

"Agent Anderson?" Booth said, finally snapping out of his reverie.

"Hello, Agent Booth."

A serious, older man in his late sixties calmly sat on the bench, from which yesterday's slew of piled clothes and shoeboxes had been removed. Agent Anderson commanded respect with obvious ease, and also oozed professionalism and strictness, with his silver hair and dark eyes. He looked like the kind of man who didn't smile often and right now was no exception, but his expression showed instant (if somewhat reserved) esteem for Booth, so Brennan decided to trust him.

"This is Dr Temperance Brennan, my partner." Booth introduced her.

"Nice to meet you." Anderson stood and shook her hand. "I've heard quite a lot about you, your expertise in the field of forensic anthropology, how you joined this mission, and your relationship with Agent Booth."

She smiled hesitantly, unsure about his last comment. Her suspicions were proven the next second, as Anderson turned to Booth again and his tone changed dramatically. It occurred to Brennan that she would never, ever want to cross this man, as his voice hardened and his eyes narrowed in disgust.

"I take it the rumours aren't true, are they? You two are not involved sexually? Because it would display _incredible_ lack of judgement on your part to embark on a mission such as this, and I've heard about your excellent work, Agent Booth, enough to know you deserve your glowing reputation, if…"

"No!" Booth burst, his voice tinged with panic. "Of course not, we are just partners. Good friends is all. You know how it is, sir, with these things…"

Anderson nodded. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah. And in any case, rumours are just rumours, and I for one choose to ignore the chatter…" The worst thing was that the senior Agent was perfectly right, it did display incredible lack of judgement.

"There's just so much of it." Raised eyebrows and a hint of humour said this was as close as Agent Anderson would ever get to a joke.

"I know, I know, it feels like being back in high school, sir…" Booth grinned nervously.

In all this both women had remained silent, for the first (and probably last) time sharing the exact same thoughts.

"Let's get started then, shall we?" Anderson said, clapping his hands together.

"Yes." Gabrielle smiled, and squeezed her way between both men to reach a closed cabinet. She whipped out the key and opened it, to reveal a sight more fitting to a military bunker, and not a dressing room.

Guns, knives, grenades, and then needles, scissors, and other sharp but common household objects… a whole host of weaponry hung on hooks inside. Miss Anor grinned and faced the group.

"Obviously Agent Anderson is here to help with a bit of weapons training, and I think I'm being honest and not mean when I say this is mostly due to you, Dr Brennan."

"I understand."

"Great, then first of all we'll need to practise in the clothes you'll actually be wearing." When Brennan didn't react, waiting for Gabrielle to hand her said garments, the stylist raised her eyebrows. "Off with the shirt-and-jeans combo, go on. Oh, by the way, I've noticed you tend to favour that as opposed to-"

"_Now_?"

"If it bothers you, Dr Brennan, we have a problem." Anderson said coolly.

She felt out of depth, completely lost. "I…" This entire mission was so far away from anything she'd ever done, and this last comment just reminded her of another aspect she hadn't counted on when she'd said yes. Booth hadn't mentioned it either, and she shot him a look of betrayal. "It's not a problem."

"Yes it is." Her partner finally interceded. "It is a problem that was never mentioned before, which frankly…"

"Are you telling me you didn't expect her to have to undress in front of you?" Anderson said, again with that faint humour in his tone.

"I… didn't really… I don't…" after a few seconds of stuttering, Booth mentally slapped himself and took a moment to remember who he was talking to, and the delicate situation Brennan was in. This wasn't a time to let the lovesick teenager inside scramble his words, he could do plenty of that later, alone with her and facing the prospect of _undressing_. Right now, he had to be the Special Agent with that 'glowing reputation' people seemed to believe. "I'm starting to wonder whether the Deputy Director bothered to inform my partner about every aspect before asking her to join an assignment for which she is unprepared."

"Take that up with Edwards, then. You already knew, deep down, Agent Booth, that she'd have to do this eventually. Might as well begin now."

"With respect, sir, I know, deep down, that this is _bullshit._" It was surprisingly easy to swear at his superior, his role model in some aspects, when defending her. "And that Dr Brennan shouldn't be put through a ridiculous… _exam_, right before she has to do it for real just so that you can…!"

"Booth."

She tapped his shoulder in the rather small room and the first thing he saw when he turned was that she was blushing, cheeks inflamed and red, but that her eyes remained vibrant blue and defiant.

Possibly, the second was that she stood before them all in her underwear.

Booth felt a violent, powerful flame explode around his heart, scorch his insides and leave him breathless, leave him empty because it consumed everything in its destructive path.

But it wasn't just arousal, just love (not that there is ever anything 'just' about love)… it was a fierce protectiveness that took every ounce of self restraint from him, so as not to fling himself in front of her and shield her perfect, lean body from Agent Anderson's and Gabrielle Anor's eyes. He saw her blue underwear, yes, it made his legs shake, check, but… no, that wasn't it. This time he wanted to rip off his jacket, give it to her and take her home, to make sure she was all right, because she was just so vulnerable out there, like that, looking like an insecure little angel. Although 'insecure' was only an adjective _he_ could use, because no one who didn't know Brennan's face inch by inch could see the flickers of uncertainty behind those eyes.

"It's okay." She said softly. "I'll be fine." And with the last word her chin went up and she faced the two spectators. "So what am I wearing?"

"Excellent." Gabrielle said, sounding rather bored. "She knows how to undress, wow. Round one goes to the doc."

Anderson went back to expressionless calm, and Booth realised that his quota of reason for today had been used up, so he might as well sit down and try not to embarrass himself.

"Put this on." Gabrielle took charge, and threw a familiar combination at Brennan. It was a pair of black shorts (very _short_ shorts…) and a red and white sleeveless top.

"Ask yourself, where could you hide a weapon with these clothes?" Anor said, glancing at Agent Anderson for a second. He ignored her, and examined Brennan, who stood there regally.

"What shoes am I wearing?" the anthropologist asked.

Gabrielle smiled in spite of herself. "Excellent question. Which ones are best in case a situation?"

"High heeled boots." Brennan said instantly.

"That's right. But with those shorts, you're wearing sandals. And I repeat my question."

"Well… if by weapon you mean an object to attack or defend myself… I suppose I could wear sharp pins in my hair…"

"_Clothes_. In your clothes." Anderson said.

"But I'm hardly wearing any!"

Booth couldn't help but grin.

"You think it's _funny_, Booth?" But her mock outrage hid a grin as well.

"Sorry, Bones." The tension of moments ago needed an escape valve somehow, and grins evolved into a helpless chuckle…

"Dr Brennan, please." Gabrielle said.

"Okay, okay. A knife taped to my thigh?"

A chuckle which was suddenly cut short by a fit of coughing.

"Good idea, but careful of course of cuts. What else?"

"There's no possible way to wear a gun, is there?" But before anyone could answer, she looked at her back with the mirror. "Wait… if I jammed it… here…" she put her fingers in the traditional gun gesture, and on the back of her jeans. "It might fit, but very small calibre."

"You get extra points for imagination, Dr Brennan." Anderson said, any hint of his previous annoyance gone.

"Okay, there are several more things this shirt allows. That's clue enough, so keep going." Gabrielle encouraged.

"I-"

"Wait." Anderson interrupted her. "Agent Booth… we're going to try a little game."

Booth felt his heart sink. This was bad, Anderson suggesting games. His earlier attitude must have really pissed the man off, even though it seemed like he wasn't going to show it. A veteran, used to respect and fear… and Booth had said 'bullshit'. Of course what made Booth feel like crap was the fact that Anderson's suspicions were dead on, and if correct, his anger was justified too. The bad guys here were him and Brennan.

Well damn, this was going to sting.

"Step out of the office."

"It's not-" Brennan began, but a nervous look from Booth silenced her.

"Can I at least know the rules?"

"No. Step outside."

Okay. Booth stood and exchanged another glance with Brennan, this time to convey strength, because whatever this game was… Anderson had chosen to overlook the connection Booth shared with his partner, but that was before he'd got him mad. Whatever this game was, it involved hiding more weapons and Brennan in loose clothing, which would automatically mean Anderson having to overlook some _stuff_ very much indeed.

Time to cool down, time to focus, time to breathe, breathe Seeley…

And he was calm again. He leaned against the door tiredly, and wondered whether this mission would end him before it had begun.

"Agent Booth?"

Lex, the bald hairdresser, was at his station, cleaning up.

"Hey."

"Are you here for Dr Brennan?"

"We're both here for the weapons training."

"But you're a profession in this stuff, I thought it was only her…"

"Yeah. I'm here to help."

A rather curious look passed over Lex's face. "That's really nice, taking time off just to be there with her…" Booth rolled his eyes and decided he was done pretending not to get the obvious hints thrown at him by innocent bystanders. This reaction got a smirk from the hairdresser. "They tell me Anderson The Great himself is in there?"

"Yep. They're taking no risks with the mob, Lex."

"Wow. Good luck with your case."

"Thanks."

And he went back to his work.

Booth almost fell backwards when Gabrielle abruptly opened the door. She gave him a kind of half-pitying, half-sympathetic look and murmured. "Sorry, his rules." Booth had a second before he actually went inside to feel glad that this woman who'd suffered so much was sort of his friend, and that after everything… she was on his side, even though she knew his secret.

"Agent Booth, meet Angel." Anderson said.

Brennan gave him an uncomfortable smile. She was wearing the same tight black… no, no she wasn't, she'd changed into a tight black _skirt_. Great. The shirt was the same, but she wore black high heeled boots that had to be uncomfortable.

"You know how to perform a routine search, correct?" Anderson asked. Only Booth know that he was mocking him, because a street-level cop did a routine search with his eyes closed, airport managers were required to perform at least a hundred each week, and a Special Agent learned how on the first day.

"Sure, except it's regulations that only a woman perform a search of another…"

"Forget regulations for a second, Agent Booth. Come on."

"But you know no one will be looking at her much, right?" Anderson raised his eyebrows. "I mean, they _will_, but for other reasons, not because they suspect her… what could anyone think she hid in there?"

Brennan snorted.

"Just do as I say, Agent Booth, and then we'll begin our little game. Do I need to worry that you won't even touch her…?"

So that wasn't the game yet? Fantastic.

"Okay, okay, everyone relax. Bones, spread out your arms please."

She lifted them at her sides and carefully arranged her features into a resigned expression which didn't fool him for one second.

"Legs a foot apart." He managed through clenched teeth. Hopefully Anderson could chalk it all up to annoyance, and not anything more.

She complied, and their eyes met just as he took the final step toward her and reached out to put his hands on her sides. To his surprise she looked… terrified. Not of him, but _with_ him. In a very strange, very unusual moment of complicity and unity against the common enemy she let him see the total… there really wasn't another word for it, it was _terror_, in her eyes. And she knew he was scared too, they were both scared of letting anyone see, except that in this bizarre situation they weren't scared of letting the other know what it was that they had to hide.

And he realised Anderson could see his face but not hers, so he'd be strong for her now, and he nodded once with confidence in his features and let his hands rest around her.

He tried making it as clinical as possible as his fingers trailed her contours, and damn were those contours pretty impressive. The shirt was slightly loose around the back so he applied a little more pressure, and felt the rough edges of the gun tucked into the skirt. Without saying a word, he pulled it out, arms encircling her body and face so close their cheeks brushed.

"Good." Anderson said.

He only spent a second to brush the inside of her thighs, almost shaking with the pressure, and doing it so quickly she could have hid a bazooka in there he wouldn't have noticed (not that it would fit).

This was also the only time Brennan allowed herself a moment of full-blown panic and she couldn't help a small whimper (which no one heard) and a tremor (which only Booth felt). His fingers were rough and felt too good, too soft, too slow, too much. The moment was tense enough without adding this new physical outlet for all that pent-up blood pressure…

Booth looked up at her and had to bite the inside of his cheek for a second until he almost pierced the skin, but he persevered and gave her another look which said he understood what she felt, but they would get through this together. So strange, this confidence in each other, so… comforting.

She nodded, giving him permission, and he went lower. This time she was ready for what came, even though it didn't mean she wasn't painfully aware of his hands, his hands and her legs.

Booth kept his mind on the evidence in front of him, this woman he didn't know: no stockings, so no chance of danger from there, and he pretended he didn't feel anything off about the boots, which any airport manager would ignore as well. After all, Anderson had said _routine_.

"Done." He said, standing up again quickly, so quickly his head spun a little.

She grabbed his arms immediately and steadied him. Gabrielle whispered something to Anderson about gun calibre to distract him from the look both partners shared, and then the senior Agent nodded.

"Good work, Agent Booth. Now, here's my suggestion…" although a suggestion meant choice was somehow involved, and this wasn't the case. "Gabrielle and I have helped Dr Brennan conceal more than that gun you found in her persona, and I'd like you to find them all, performing a search by any means necessary."

"By any means…?"

"Just find them all." Gabrielle said curtly. "Game ends when you find them all."

Booth gulped, and Brennan sighed.

She knew exactly what parts of her body hid what weapons, and she knew what came during the next hour: a torture session so special she was sure CIA and NSA would be interested to know Anderson's method. Oh, and someone help the poor man who had to find a very particular pocket-knife tucked in a very particular place…

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_**I'm BACK!!!**_

_***grins***_

_**So that's what I'm talking about! Now, just follow the signs (especially green ones) and you'll be fine. And I'll be ever so grateful… ;)**_


	7. Booth vs The PocketKnife

_**After fifty comments which **__**ranged between open threats and PPS's, I couldn't help but post as soon as I possibly could!!!**_

_**I still love you!**__** ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 7:**** Booth vs The Pocket-Knife**

Agent Anderson wasn't really enjoying himself… all that much. He grimly noted every carefully constructed expression by both partners and tried to recall every good word he'd heard about strong Agent Booth, every exclamation of praise said wondrously about intelligent Dr Brennan. They _did_ work well together, despite this… despite what he was seeing too plainly right before his eyes. And he wouldn't split them up, even though a simple phone call to the Deputy Director from him would suffice. The odd thing was that he wasn't quite sure _why_… but he just wouldn't.

Gabrielle Anor felt a weary, creeping bitterness claw at her insides. Booth had been wrong in thinking she could never really fancy him. Her heart might remain broken but the pieces always felt a bit more alive whenever this man was around. He was too young for her, and she never considered actually dating him, but… there was something about Special Agent Seeley Booth. Something Dr Brennan clearly knew as well. Gabrielle pushed back her useless longing and sighed, managing to feel honestly sorry for her friend to be put through this weird kind of test.

"How many items?" Booth asked through clenched teeth.

"Five plus that gun you found earlier." Brennan said.

"Okay, then let's get started."

His face was an impassive mask, and she struggled to make hers match (she'd been so _good_ at this four years ago… damn it). His hands, on the other… hand, shook slightly, but no one in the small, now awkwardly quiet, room commented.

Brennan's arms were beginning to ache (although to her dismay they weren't the only body part with an ache she couldn't calm). Booth's hands trailed the shirt more carefully, fingers digging into the flesh in a precise, perfectly scientific way. It didn't take him two seconds to find a black band tied around her waist with two knives attached to it.

When Brennan made to remove it herself, however, Agent Anderson… lost the courage to complain, and decided to let her.

He didn't count on Booth gently tugging her hands away and undoing the strap himself. For this he had to lift her shirt so her hips, waist, belly-button and ribs were clearly visible, skin soft and pale, and delicious. A sliver of her bra momentarily stole his focus. Every breath she took made her chest rise and fall in an incredibly distracting way (especially since he was paying scientific attention to an area close to it).

Booth took a moment to wonder why he was doing this to himself, but unfortunately in the middle of the answering thought the moment ended.

"Does this count as one or two?" He murmured, and she didn't understand what had happened, why she no longer felt that connection and complicity, why he seemed to be uncomfortably avoiding her gaze. Had he forgotten this was _her_ torture session, not his?

"One." She said sharply, hoping to shake him out of this strange new state.

It didn't work.

The shirt slid back in place, his fingers sliding down her waist and she couldn't help a hysterical giggle, possibly from being wound up like a spring, to relieve some tension. It was a sound so alien it startled even herself. To Brennan's surprise, however, this was what made Booth come back to her, and that complicity reignite. But it didn't help that his eyes met hers… only to ask, with a grin:

"Are you _ticklish_, Bones?"

"No." She said immediately. Today was a day of monosyllables.

He didn't push her, but went back to examining her body. Apparently satisfied with the front of her shirt, he circled her (arms still outstretched and becoming painfully sore).

As he did so, Brennan felt like _prey_.

His hands were on her back, now, also feeling carefully and very, very scientifically. He felt a sharp wire… in her bra, held in place by the back strap. Well crap. To punish him, possibly, Brennan didn't make an attempt to remove it herself.

So he pulled the shirt up until he was confronted with the catch… he'd undone this thing in so many dreams, seeing it now felt pretty unreal. But at least he'd been right, the offending object was right there.

Now the problem was taking it out. Booth looked down and took a deep breath, to steel his resolve because he knew what came now, and boy, was his body waaay too ready for it.

In a quick, practiced motion, he undid the clasp, carefully removed the sharp wire and tied it back without giving Brennan time to complain. Which she didn't: in fact, she didn't make a sound. After a couple of seconds, Booth realised he no longer had an excuse to look at her beautiful, smooth bare back and let the shirt drop in place.

Two down, three to go…

Was this karma of some kind?

Keeping with his procrastinating principles, Booth left the worst for last (aka, the skirt) and centred his attention to the boots. Brennan looked fantastic in high heels. Hot. There was just no better, simpler word: she looked smoking HOT.

He sat down at her feet and did not, under any possible circumstance, look up.

"Give me your foot, Bones."

Brennan felt something snap inside her as she threw caution to the wind, didn't complain, and simply lowered her throbbing arms (yeah, they weren't the only throbbing… um, but she didn't want to think about that).

"Fine." She exhaled and gingerly put her weight on one (very high heeled) foot. The other leg she outstretched and put in Booth's lap. Gabrielle chose this moment to leave the room, without even bothering to mumble an excuse.

Anderson looked away and began feeling a bit of remorse for losing his temper with Booth, but he was too proud to back down now. And a sadistic part of him, hitherto unknown, wanted to see how they would react.

And there was always that pocket-knife…

"There's something…" Booth turned to Anderson for the first time since this began. "Can I just remove the boot?"

"Of course, if you have to find whatever it is you think is hidden there."

Well, this just got better and better.

Booth took the zipper and slid it down, revealing more and more smooth, creamy skin. And not once looking up, or away, or… he wished he could just close his eyes and not _look_ at all. Two small knives in their sheaths were strapped to her calves.

"Aha. Three down, two to go." He told her perfect ankle. The irrational (and stupid) desire to kiss it took him by surprise. He hadn't always been a 'feet' person.

Brennan managed to be thankful that Booth didn't look up, because she felt perfectly naked at this very moment, the skirt having rode up to her thighs and beyond.

"Give me the other leg, Bones."

She put a hand on his shoulder to regain her balance as she took her weight out of one high-heeled booth to put it on the other: for Brennan, who hardly ever wore stiletto boots ('hardly ever' meaning… well, never, let's be scientifically accurate here) this was harder than it sounds. Or maybe it was just as hard as it sounds.

Booth bit the side of his mouth again, resulting in a painful stab of reality coming back.

Two Korean Tae-Kwon-Do throwing stars hid in the new boot once he'd removed it.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Do you even know how to use these?"

"Not Korean Tae-Kwon-Do, no, but I do have black belt in Karate, and we've used similar artefacts there."

"Right. Somehow I keep forgetting that."

She smiled, but he didn't see because he was conversing with her knee. A very nice knee it was, too…

"So just…" he cleared his throat "One more to go, huh?"

"Yep." Brennan said curtly.

Anderson actually reached the point where he opened his mouth to stop them, the words ready at his throat. But then he closed it again.

"Okay then." Booth felt paralyzed. His throat was dry, his palms were sweating (not great, seeing as he was about to touch her) and his head buzzed. "Okay, I'll just… yeah, okay."

Brennan stonily stared ahead, at the door through which Gabrielle had left. She desperately wished she could do the same.

Booth stood up, only to realise there was no way in hell he was bending to feel her up, so he sat back down again, but her legs were too long and anyway his brean wouldn't let him look up because it knew what would happen to his body, so he stood again, almost got another head rush, sat down… and found that kneeling worked.

Fan-this was so painfully wrong and right-tastic.

There was just… so little of the skirt. And it was so tight. He couldn't… he couldn't touch her, not like this, it felt like a violation of her privacy and of her right to intimacy, this entire situation felt like a horrible, horrible mistake…

He tried to extend his hand toward her thigh, but his heart seemed to twist in his chest, screaming 'Wrong! This is wrong, not like this, please not like this!'.

"Tell you what." Anderson spoke finally, realising what he'd done. "Guess it by not touching her. Name the most likely places where the last weapon could be, and Dr Brennan can tell you when you get it right."

Booth sighed. "Thanks, sir." He stood up and shared a 'Phew' moment with his Bones, who managed a sneaky smile. "So… uh…"

Ah. Now what?

"So, is it in a thigh sheath?"

"No."

"Then…" Seriously, what on earth was he supposed to ask? "Then is it…?" His voice cracked, once again making him feel like a teenage boy. Maybe his rather lost, mesmerised look finally drew the pity of Agent Anderson, who clapped his hands.

"Okay, okay, game over. Remove the pocket-knife, Dr Brennan, and let's get back to the job."

Brennan did it so quickly Booth didn't have time to see anything. She hitched up the skirt and slid the pocket-knife out from where it was taped to her inner thigh (brushing areas she'd rather Booth not see at this particular moment). And finally… _finally_ it was over.

Booth stood up in a fluid, agile movement and breathed in relief. Brennan grinned at him, like they'd just passed a test together by cheating.

The next two hours (during which Gabrielle ate her pride and went back inside) passed uneventfully. Brennan had excellent self-defence skills, and even Agent Anderson admitted to being surprised by her fitness. Guns would mostly be left up to Booth (who took ten minutes to figure out which costumes would work with them) because of their bulk, but some small calibre stuff could be used by Brennan, and she had knives, pins, wires, and a few cute gadgets, including a bracelet that hid two razor-like metal squares.

Hopefully the situation in which they would have to use these wouldn't arise, after all, she knew how tight security would be in such a hotel, it didn't matter if one of the guards there was former FBI.

By the end of the session, both partners felt much more secure about their cover, and their defence. During the last half hour, they moved to the studio for more space to practice kicking in stiletto boots, martial arts while wearing tight mini-skirts and using conventional objects as weapons.

"Well, I think we can safely say Dr Brennan will do a fantastic job. I am happy I was called in for this, you complement Agent Booth in every aspect. Congratulations."

Brennan nodded, feeling a little out of breath after a short sparring session against Booth wearing the pink semi-transparent dress (the first one she'd tried in Anor's dressing room) that clung uncomfortably to her body, restraining movement and range.

"She'll be great." Booth said in agreement, smiling at her. He didn't doubt his words for a second, but as he said them an old extra sense of security and calm washed over him, something he hadn't felt since this case began.

*

He was driving her home when a thought occurred to him.

"Have you said goodbye to everyone at the lab? Angela will miss you, even if you're only gone for a couple of weeks. They'll be so worried."

"I… can't really think about that. I haven't been much in the lab these past few days. Preparing, haven't we?" She looked out the window as she answered, and this was a clear sign of something wrong.

"Bones, we leave tomorrow! Do they even know it's tomorrow?"

"I'll… call them."

He stopped the car. "Temperance, what are you doing?"

She shifted uncomfortably and wished she could shield her face from his inquisitive eyes. "They know it's soon, okay? It's difficult for me to face a goodbye."

"You'll only be gone two weeks, and we've left before. We might even need their help at some point, so you might be able to contact them. I don't understand why you won't say goodbye."

"It's not that I _won't_. Look, I see this can go two ways: either we succeed, in which case it's not that important to say goodbye, if we'll be contacting them and anyway, back in two weeks. If we fail… it's better this way."

"We won't fail."

"We might."

"No. No, we won't."

She started at the total trust in his voice. He really did believe they would. Hollywood Rob and his Angel would work, discover which crime-boss was responsible for the five murders, and while investigating, try to catch incriminating evidence against the others. Uncover the traffic of women, then leave all the arrests to NYPD, and get the hell out of the Hotel DeMarco.

"Okay." She croaked.

"Yeah, but-" After a pause, he laughed. "That's twice now you've agreed with me, and I'm still not used to it. And this time without evidence!"

"I'm going soft." She grinned, feeling weightless, floating, euphoria stealing gravity…

"Yeah you are, Bones! What happened?"

'I fell in love with you.' She thought.

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_**By the way… case begins in the next chapter! Some people complained about the prep, but I hope it wasn't too dragging, I really did want to make it interesting and new (I don't know many authors **__**that spend time with it). **_

_**Anyways…**__** guess what?**_

_**Please reviewwwww!**_


	8. Of Goodbyes and Flying

_**I am horrible. I didn't reply to a SINGLE review, even though I read them all, giggled like a fool at every comment and loved them. I hope you guys know how much they mean to me, **__**and how much you mean to me.**_

_**I write this for me but I post it for you. :)**_

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**CHAPTER ****8: Of Goodbyes and Flying**

In the end Brennan decided to meet the team for dinner that night, as a farewell thing. She didn't exactly do it for herself, knowing how she felt about goodbyes. It would be unfair to say she did it for Booth, but it did happen partly because of his recommendation.

And they hadn't all been to the Diner in some time. Together, as a team.

"Is Booth coming, Bren?" Angela asked. "Tell me he's coming."

"He's with Parker, Ange. Saying goodbye for a couple of weeks, so he understands. Booth always sees Parker at least once a week."

Cam listened in interest. "What about you, Brennan? Aren't Russ and Amy in town, last I heard?"

"No, they went back home last week, remember? They came to visit the Jeffersonian museum and I gave them the tour right before they left." Brennan smiled at the memory of Amy's daughters claiming they wanted to solve crimes too, like Auntie Bones. The nickname had spread like wildfire, and it was completely Booth's fault.

"That's great. And… your dad?" Angela said hesitantly.

"He's away too, I told you two days ago, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Brennan thought she detected an unusual flicker in Angela's eyes, like maybe she hadn't forgotten. "Sorry, my mistake. But have you spoken to him? _Any_ of them?"

Hodgins and Sweets interrupted their conversation and leaned in to listen. Brennan felt like she was being interrogated, and her response was more defensive than it needed to be.

"Yes, I spoke to everyone. I called my dad yesterday, and Russ and Amy today. They know I'm going on an assignment for two weeks, and won't be in contact. And that's all they need to know."

"Good, great." Cam said, forcing a smile. Angela and Hodgins exchanged a glance that shared a thought. The thought was '_It's just like we feared'_. Sweets opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

Brennan's frustration only increased at this, she felt shut out, an outsider to her own group.

"Can you explain to me what is so unusual?" She blurted out finally, her tone betraying nothing but annoyance. Thanks to Booth's prodding she asked questions lately, always stated her doubts about human behaviour she didn't understand, didn't hide it and pretend she hadn't seen. This time, she wouldn't be lied to, or kept secrets from, which to Brennan was the same thing as not knowing the truth.

Angela immediately looked like she regretted her attitude when she caught what hid underneath her friend's expression.

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. It's just that… you haven't even thought to give them an idea of the risks you'll be taking? The scope of this assignment?"

"No. Of course not, it's unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" Cam said, disbelieving. "Brennan, on the contrary, I think it's very necessary for you to-"

"Make them worry for two weeks? What if nothing bad happens? It will have been unnecessary. What is something _does_ happen? What if I die?"

"Please don't say that-" Angela began, voice strained.

"I considered not telling _you_ I was leaving. You, my friends. But then Booth made me see that you'd understand, that it was necessary for someone to know. So I chose you. Not my family, because they don't love me out of friendship, it's in their genetic makeup to love me, and _if I die_ they will be hurt beyond… Will it have helped, that I… that I warned them?" She knew she wasn't making much sense, but her anger made her thoughts scrambled. "Please trust me. I know what I'm doing."

And she couldn't help but add. "I'm not a _child_, Angela. I'm a rational adult, and my decision is my own to make. So can you at least understand why I choose it to be like this? Why I don't want them to suffer?"

"Oh honey, of course I do. And I'm sorry. But we're all so nervous. And we'll miss you _so_ much." The rest of the team nodded seriously. "Even if it's just for two weeks. And we'll be worried sick, and the fact that you'll be with Booth is the only thing keeping me from trying to stop you from going." she said all this very fast. Brennan smiled and took her friend's hand in comfort.

"Thank you, Angela."

"Don't. Don't thank me, I still don't want you to go. But I trust you. And Booth. And I know you're doing the _right_ thing, like always, or at least the _smartest_ thing, I'm sure you and Booth together tend to merge those two so that they tend to be the _same_ thing about ninety percent of the time, right? So that's good odds, you know? I trust the odds. I like math, most people think I don't but I do, I use math in computer programming every day…"

"Angela, relax." Hodgins said, taking her hand for a second. He quickly withdrew it, as though he'd broken a rule, but his eyes stayed on hers. "You can panic once she's gone, remember our deal? Now, we're being _strong_ for Brennan."

Angela laughed, as did Brennan, Cam and Sweets. Hodgins simply smiled at her, a smile she returned, and the laughter around them died as something else came alive…

She broke eye contact first, and plastered a grin on her face to ask Brennan:

"Are you leaving the state?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"This is _so_ frustrating. I just wish you could tell us more about what you'll be doing, it keeps me up at night!"

"You know I can't!" Their tone had become joking, and Brennan was grateful. "For all you know I'm going undercover as a… a… waitress!"

"A waitress?"

"Yes, and you can't ever come to the place where I work because we know each other. It would kind of be like that."

"No it wouldn't, sweetie. It would be nothing like that because I would avoid the place so your cover didn't get blown."

Once it was established that everyone was going to fine, Sweets saved Hodgins from staring at Angela like a dumbstruck idiot and engaged him in conversation about Star Wars, zero oxygen in space, and battleship explosions.

"You'll listen to everything Booth says right? You know he's the lead on this, he's the one with experience?"

"Angela, I know it's a dangerous case. Booth knows it too. But… we'll be fine. We'll be together."

At this Angela almost clapped her hands, but restrained herself just in time. Cam suppressed a huge smile, and coughed instead.

"What?"

She was becoming more perceptive, sharper. It was his influence, without a doubt.

"The only reason I'm letting you go is that you'll be with Booth, Brennan." Angela said again.

"So that's why you smiled just now? The fact that I'll be together with Booth?" It was quite puzzling, thought Brennan, that it should make them so happy. It made her insides quiver, but that was because of her Secret, Angela had no reason to look so… proud.

"Yes, Brennan, that's why I smiled just now."

*

They drew stares from everyone at the airport. Fortunately, only two people recognised Temperance Brennan. Both asked whether they were married, and on hearing a resounding 'no', one asked her out, and got a similar answer.

While waiting in line for check-in, Brennan voiced an anxiety she'd been having for quite some time.

"Booth." His spine went ramrod straight, because she was whispering in his ear and her breath tickled and her voice… oh, her voice… "I've been thinking. I could be recognised. I know the dark hair and the make-up act as much of a concealment… I mean, normally airports are a hassle and I have to go in through the VIP section…"

"You use the _VIP_…?"

"Listen." She said impatiently. "Today has been exceptional, yes, but… What if someone realises it's me?"

"Bones, relax. First of all, how many gangsters, kingpins, mob bosses, etc. do you know who read crime novels?"

"I don't really know many gangsters, kingpins, mob-"

"It was a rhetorical question. The fact is that I highly doubt any of them do. Plus, the hair and the make-up _do_ help disguise you. And even if someone thought you looked familiar, what's to say he'd assume the hot girl with Hollywood Rob is really Dr Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist slash best-selling novelist, working undercover?"

The fact that he'd called her 'hot' was fantastically overlooked by both of them.

"I understand that, I understand that the probability is miniscule, but an irrational, if small, part of me is nevertheless concerned with the risks…"

"If we took into account every minute percentage risk we wouldn't even have started this mission."

She reluctantly nodded. "All right. You are correct."

"Hah, right again. I have a feeling my killer spree is going to end abruptly and soon."

She nudged him and he playfully pushed her.

"Hello?"

The hostess was impatient to take their (fake) passports and send them on their way.

"Have a nice flight, Mr Peterson, Ms Thompson."

"Thank you." Booth said.

The hostess found herself being blinded by his fantastic charm-smile, and short of breath. Brennan found herself extremely annoyed.

"Let's go, Rob." She said possessively, and leaned on him heavily. Booth, who wasn't quite sure what had brought on this change, closed his eyes for just a second and felt her weight on his side and loved it, loved it so much…

*

"Good idea, that thing before." He whispered once they were walking between the narrow aisles in coach to get to first class.

"What?"

"Act like a couple, to build our cover. Great thinking."

"Ah." The Secret was beginning to feel quite like a burden, lately. It kept making itself known during the least expected moments, like before, being jealous… that had never happened, not that she was consciously aware of. Like before and like… _now_, for instance, walking behind him, her gaze level with his broad back and powerful build, the way his muscular arms and thighs moved when _he_ moved… it was mesmerising, it was beautiful, it was very, very wrong and stupid and irrational and above all, it was always going to have to stay Secret.

"Bones?"

"Yes?"

He didn't turn to face her, and she was glad, for once, not to be looking into his eyes as they spoke.

"Are you… ready?"

What kind of a question was that?

Booth kept walking and he kept his eyes on the floor, feeling like an idiot, not daring to look at her because he was afraid, very afraid of what she'd see, of what new evidence she would unearth if their eyes met.

All Brennan saw was the back of his neck and all she heard was a ridiculous, meaningless question she didn't understand.

"Of course. What… why are you asking me that?" 'I thought we already established that' she wanted to add. 'I thought we were holding, we were secure. I thought…'

"Because when we get to the JFK airport we're going to become Hollywood and Angel, and… I'm glad I'm not alone." He hesitated, almost stopped walking, then changed his mind last second. "That came out wrong. It's not just that. I'm glad it's _you_ that's with me. I'm really… really glad you came, Bones."

She felt a Secret smile tug her lips, heart rate increasing madly.

"I'm glad you're here too, Booth."

*

It wasn't a very long flight, and they still had so much to talk about. Setting stories straight, being careful with details… it wasn't as though the people there would be automatically suspicious of them, exactly, but they must be careful. There were so many questions, so many things to get right.

The FBI had a carefully constructed profile of every person coming to the meeting. However, carefully constructed didn't necessarily mean detailed. Three of them had no picture, just a nickname and a list of possible offences that might be attributed to their youth. As people grew older, records disappeared, rich men became important men and had no reason to go near a crime.

There were five other "businessmen" coming to the parlay meeting, plus Hollywood Rob who made six. Out of these five, the two better known were Gregor "G-Force" McCullogh and Demar, last name unknown. The rest were nicknames: EJ, Red and The Lady. This last one was, for obvious reasons, suspected of being a woman, but remained the most elusive of all.

G controlled the Manhattan island, and was the one who'd originally called the meeting. Obviously his attitude was favourable to a pact.

Demar, who for the moment didn't even have an a.k.a., let alone a last name, owned the Baltimore ports. This meant most exports passed through him, and so gave him a lot of power. His attitude toward the treaty was unknown, although he was an unusually smart old gangster.

EJ was suspected of controlling the California traffic, but then again it was almost impossible to believe a single organisation led by one man could control the state that had the most abundant market.

Red was definitely Texan, but that was about the extent of information on him. It was rumoured he'd been spotted as far as Illinois, but that didn't mean anything either.

And finally, The Lady, who was rumoured to be in Florida. Just rumours. There was a picture of what might be a person sitting alone on what might be a bench in a park at night. What that meant, and who it was, was also unknown.

Hollywood Rob's views on the pact were negative. That they knew. He was very new to the business yet owned a huge market; this meant he was paranoid, insecure, and had no time for treaties if he was still trying to control his area: therefore set his own prices and rules. Sadly, in the real world he'd been caught very soon by the FBI because of sloppy work and a smart wiretap. They knew a lot about him and Booth had even interviewed the man personally. He wasn't in prison yet, because his arrest was kept perfectly quiet, but interrogations could be held at special FBI facilities.

The only thing they didn't know about Hollywood was the way he'd treat _her_. And of course their relationship wasn't as important as the case. Angel was paid company, she wouldn't be scrutinised as much as Rob, she was an accessory. Who there would care about their relationship?

But Booth knew his part well. And he wanted to focus on his partner, to remind her of her importance in appearing unimportant. Because she was so important to him.

They worked on her acting, on her accent, on her eyes, her walk, her feelings. He taught her slang, tried to get her to understand how the minds of the people they'd meet worked. He coached her and let her show him what she could do. It was an intense hour of serious work and study, and fortunately, privacy.

By the time the plane touched down on New Yorker soil, Brennan had a splitting headache.

"Are you sure you don't want to take anything for that?" Booth asked, tenderly concerned, as they walked through the terminal. They already had their suitcases (multiple, large suitcases, in her case).

"Would you believe that I haven't slept much tonight because of… nerves?" She said the word as though she was disgusted with herself, like she couldn't believe something as common, as _mundane_ as nerves could affect Temperance Brennan.

He chuckled. "Bones, I love… that you admitted that." The chuckle was cut off abruptly. He'd been one syllable from saying 'I love you'.

Just. One.

"Ugh. Let's just go change, shall we?"

"Right."

They each went to respective washrooms. Brennan couldn't fit all her suitcases into one stall, and so had to leave them outside and take Angel's clothes with her. She carefully applied the make-up she'd been taught to use, and ruffled her dark hair. Once again, the feeling of looking in the mirror was strange, alien. She wasn't herself anymore, even though her wide eyes might look afraid and tense. She was Angel now.

But she was in for a surprise when she opened the suitcase where she'd left the white dress they'd prepared so carefully, to find that it was…

Ruined.

Brennan looked at the crumpled fabric and almost groaned aloud. She couldn't wear that without ironing it, and the first impression was so important. Gabrielle had said it was the _most_ important. So Brennan was left to look around inside until she found something else… and smiled, forgetting her headache for a moment. It was perfect.

Booth, meanwhile, was lucky to be alone and jammed the door quickly. He also changed quickly, because a part of him… well, who was he kidding. All of him wanted to see Brennan emerge _en grande tenue_.

*

Half an hour later a very special couple left the John F Kennedy airport.

They were… beautiful.

He was walking with confidence and a slight swagger, laughing at something she'd said and slinging his arm possessively around her. A white hat cast shadows over his eyes and cheekbones, making him darker. In black trousers and a white coat cut longer than normal, he reminded a passing air hostess of a sexy doctor she'd dated once…

She was wearing a green dress that brought out the vivid blue in her eyes. It was very tight around her curves until it reached her hips, where it flared in a short pleated skirt that swished with every stride of long legs. White stilettos gave this ensemble a hint of delicacy, of good-girl-ish intentions, betrayed by the neckline of aforementioned dress. Because it plunged down to her navel like a Y.

If slow motion happened in real life, this would be a moment to immortalise. Laughing decadence, smiling mischief.

Unfortunately, it didn't really work that way. And soon they were gone, because a tinted Jaguar awaited the obviously rich man and his… company.

A little girl who sat on her daddy's shoulders pointed at them excitedly. Her eyes went large and she breathed in awe. "Oh daddy! Oh, _look_ at them, just look!"

"No, Olive, they are not nice people. Let's go wait for mommy over there."

"Wait! Why not? Isn't she his wife?"

The father dared to take another look at the couple, who were getting into the car while the driver put their many suitcases into the trunk. At a glance he'd assumed this woman was obviously paid to dress as she did for him, and God knew what other things…

But as he saw the man gently take her hand to help her inside, he wasn't so sure about his first impression. And found he really wasn't lying when he said to his daughter:

"Yes, I think she might be."

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_**So there. Forgive my review-reply-ness negligence? I promise **__**to make it up for you this time, and I honestly want to know your thoughts on this chapter.**_

_**Lots more on the case, plus the next chapter is called "Going Under"!!!**_

_**AND**__** it includes a swimming pool!  
*cackles***_

_**:)**_


	9. Going Under

_**Okay, FINALLY, the case really begins. From now on I think I'm going to tell the people who don't like pre-case to skip to this chap! :) You guys are so great! I've tried to reply to almost everyone, but obviously to anonymous reviewers I couldn't... and I wish I could, because there have been such wonderful comments! THANK YOU ALL!**_

_**And h**__**ere… we… GO!**_

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**CHAPTER 9: Going Under**

"So… what do you want to do?"

They had planned to arrive at the hotel a day before anyone else was coming. It would give a twenty-four hour advantage and time to settle in, get a feel for the place, prepare a strategy… it was a good idea, and on paper twenty four hours passed so _quickly_. So many things to do, so little time and all that.

Apparently, not so much.

For Booth and Brennan, in character, twenty-four hours were one thousand four-hundred and forty minutes, were eighty-six thousand four-hundred seconds. Was quite a long time.

They discovered this once they were inside their room (their room with one bed, by the way. Yeah, that was an issue best postponed). She sat staring out the window, he sat staring inside. And he'd spoken to break the strange silence, because he really didn't know what to do.

"What do you want to do?"

But we mustn't get ahead of ourselves. Before they got there, to sitting in silence and staring away form each other without knowing what to say, quite a few things needed to happen in the story:

The taxi drove them to the door of the DeMarco and left their bags for the bellboys to carry inside. The hotel was enormous, competing against the Ritz, the Palace and the Four Seasons for luxury and stars. It stood proudly at the centre of Manhattan, not two streets from Central Park, and was a very new establishment, opened September 2008. It was also crowded in the middle of July with billionaire tourists and rich locals. The government was obviously quite serious about following the trail of murders to catch those men. Because it was costing a lot of money… a _lot_ of money, to stay there for two weeks.

Sadly, the operation needed to remain a total secret, and the hotel staff weren't trustworthy enough to be told. In fact, Booth and Brennan had been cautioned to think of the staff as suspects, because to choose this place, full of people, easy to notice, had instantly been pointed out as a strange idea for G McCullogh to have. Unless he had influence there.

The hotel lobby was a vast, lavish display of obscure taste: mixing black leather armchairs with blood-red walls and a white marble floor. However, by some strange alchemy, instead of looking like a vampire haunt, it managed to pull off elegance.

It was crowded, and as in all crowds, no matter what their annual income was, the average IQ equalled the IQ of the dumbest person there divided by a hundred.

Eyes turned to them and were stuck there for a while, whether the eyeballs belonged to male or female. It was instantly obvious to, well, _everyone_ what kind of people rented the penthouse here, but there was something so _interesting_ about the pimp and his escort.

If they'd been able to hear this thought in particular, Booth and Brennan would have laughed aloud.

Or headed back home, possibly.

Booth decided they could stand in line for a few minutes and catch their breath, so he stood behind the last person and planted his feet to wait. He slung his arm around her waist and drew her close, so Brennan draped herself around him instantly, wanting to be obvious and draw attention to herself.

This made Booth grind his teeth and bite his tongue. Apparently there would be no catching of anything except a stress-induced ulcer for him just now.

"Rob Thompson." Rob Thompson said, slapping his hand on the counter when it was their turn.

"The DeMarco welcomes you, Mr Thompson. My name is Andrew and it's my pleasure to help and assist you to make your stay with us comfortable."

The receptionist made it quite clear that it really wasn't his pleasure at all, and that low-life like Hollywood Rob was not permitted or tolerated in his domain. Brennan almost pointed out that as a receptionist he had minimum managing power, but decided to keep the fact to herself. Angel wouldn't say it.

Booth handed the man his credit card and leaned against the counter, having shed his white hat, managing to be both mysterious and cocky. The moment the receptionist saw what room they'd booked, his eyes widened slightly, then went back to normal. Clearly he wasn't impressed with money, and wasn't ready to flatter. Booth found himself thinking: _I wish I didn't have to act like a jerk around you_. He himself would have treated a man like Hollywood Rob with nothing but disgust.

The look of distaste from the receptionist intensified when he saw Brennan, who was leaning against Booth comfortably.

"This is my friend, Angel." Rob said, as if suddenly realising she was there. "Say hi, Angel." His voice was bored.

"Hey there." Brennan said, stepping away from him and also leaning against the counter. Her approach was different to Booth's, however. To put it mildly: the height was ideal for displaying a certain prominent body part which finally put some expression on the receptionist's face other than disgust.

"Uh, Miss Angel? Yes, you… that's to say, the… eh…"

"Come on my Angel, looks like we'll have to _find_ our room." Booth turned to leave, feeling his blood boil already. He shouldn't have said 'my'. He really shouldn't have, but it slipped out, and now there was no going back.

"Sir, please wait! It's the Sunshine Suite in the penthouse. James will take you there now."

"Grand. You James?" The bellboy standing behind them with their luggage nodded enthusiastically and pointed to the large corridor leading to the elevators. "'Kay, James, take our luggage upstairs for us, will you?" Rob grinned, then forgot James existed. "Angel, say bye."

"See ya." Brennan said, and winked at the receptionist, whose face flooded with colour, and he looked down at his notes, blinking furiously. Then he called "Next!" while cleaning his glasses with vigour.

"That was _fun_." Angel said, laughing. James the bellboy thought the sound was strange, yet beautiful. Just like it's owner.

"Oh baby, I'll show you some real fun real soon."

Brennan gulped, and forced the smile on her face not to wilt and die. Booth was mentally wondering where his nerve had come from, and how to find more. There was no cheerful 'pling' when the doors opened, as though this hotel was beyond such mundane things as that.

"We're at the penthouse floor, Mr Thompson. The Sunshine Suite is this way." Penthouse _floor_? Booth thought. He'd always been under the impression there was just THE penthouse, as in singular. Apparently, as James began to explain, there were two 'Penthouse' floors, and this was the second. Apparently there were two top floors boasting two 'Penthouse' Suites each, and Booth felt that Rob had been totally _had _in this deal.

Brennan felt sorry for the boy, who couldn't be more than eighteen years old, and was trying to push five bags out of the elevator. She instinctively took two to help him, but detected a look from Booth that told her this was a mistake. The surprise on the boy's face was something they didn't need right now.

It was a mistake she was too late to correct, unfortunately.

So Booth took his bag too, and without glancing at her or James, made his way out.

A short corridor led to a wooden door with the word 'SUNSHINE' in golden letters.

"These are your keys." James gave them two plastic cards with metal strips almost like credit cards, and showed them how they worked. "They are also the keys you need to use to get onto the elevator."

"Not bad." Angel said.

James glanced at her for a moment, and his look made Booth uneasy. It wasn't at all like a lovestruck teenager facing a beautiful woman, but like a curious young man pondering a specially complicated math problem. He faced Rob again, however, as he said in a mechanically rehearsed voice:

"The DeMarco wishes you a pleasant stay, and recommends you feel free to go down to our Jacuzzi, swimming pool, tennis court, gym, squash court, computer rooms-"

"We get it, kid." Rob interrupted.

"All right then. Goodbye."

"Say bye, Angel."

"Bye James."

He left quickly with one last glance over his shoulder. They were strange people, these two. So… _interesting_.

"Bones… check it _out_!"

She couldn't help a gasp, then a smile. The room was spectacular, and really lived up to it's name.

Sunshine was exactly what filled every single glowing corner, so it seemed there were no shadows on the plush carpet, the golden bed, the antique chairs…

"Oh. It's really beautiful!" Brennan said, kicking off her heels and striding out to the west wall. Because it wasn't a wall; it was made of glass like a gigantic window. The designer had taken advantage of the position this room faced, and strategically positioned two mirrors at other side of the door. Every item in it was a golden, soft yellow, or creamy white colour, and that plus the mirrors made it seem like the sunlight shone _out_, and not in. The room glowed.

Brennan thought that it wouldn't be too bright in the morning (oh, and high tech shutters were available at the push of a button) but they could see the sunset perfectly. It was breathtaking to lean against the window and the sky felt so close up here…

She turned to face Booth and smiled a brilliant, blinding smile. "I love it." She said, like a little girl who'd just been given the best birthday present.

Booth didn't understand how his heart could beat in his chest when she outshone the sunlight.

And he smiled back wearily and sat on the bed, facing away from the window, away from the sun, and away from Temperance Brennan.

*

The thing was gigantic: a titanic four poster monster with silk sheets which would leave ample space for them both. In the same bed. Together. Sleeping.

"So… what do you want to do?" Booth said finally, to break the silence.

"Sorry?"

"Bones, what do you want to do?"

She considered his question, the decided speaking back to back was rather impersonal. She turned and folded her legs under her.

"Should we be… you know…"

He gulped, turning around as well, deciding she should change out of that green dress right now.

"… planning?"

"Planning. Of course. The plan."

But planning without having even met the others now felt rather useless.

"Or we could…"

The skirt really was too short, he thought. It was almost… inappropriate.

"… we could look around the hotel, get our bearings, ascertain where everything is."

They'd been given maps with the layout to study. And those pleats were most distracting.

"I guess."

"Or we could eat?"

They both realised at the same time that they were ravenous.

"Brilliant, Bones. What time is it? You know what? I don't care, let's go eat. I'm starving."

"Me too. And it's seven pm." She smiled, and seemed to be considering something. "I think I'll change."

"Okay."

When he didn't move, she added. "I think I'd like to change alone, Booth."

He grinned. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." She laughed. "I'll check out how the elevator keys work while you do your thing." He called over his shoulder.

"Okay!"

She had already decided what she was going to wear, and gleefully opened the largest suitcase. Remembering what James the bellboy had said, she stuffed her two-piece in her purse as well, in case an impromptu swimming pool session was called for. Booth wouldn't be Booth during the next hours, and she could depend only on herself.

In ten minutes she was ready, and a glance at the mirror made her blush slightly, but she felt proud of what she'd just managed.

"You can come in now!" she called.

He did.

"Oh good _God_."

And he went back out again, slamming the door behind him.

The silence was… funny to her, for some reason. Before she knew it she was shaking with laughter. She sat on the bed and, still laughing, waited for him to come back.

"Bones, are you _kidding_ me?"

He stood in the middle of the room and his eyes hungrily devoured every detail of her, every inch.

She was sitting cross-legged, and those black high-heeled boots were a punch in the stomach, leaving him breathless. The short leather mini skirt he was intimately familiar with was a slap on the face, leaving him stunned. The white collared shirt through which the dark colour of her bra was easily guessed was a shove to the floor, leaving him powerless. The strict high ponytail and sexy glasses were a kick to the crotch, leaving him winded and begging for mercy.

"I thought you'd find it amusing. Gabrielle certainly did. She said I looked the part."

"You certainly do, but naughty teacher?" he groaned.

"Don't you remember?" For the first time her tone faltered, and maybe it wasn't all as funny as she thought. "In Vegas, you said I could be the teacher that made the kids go crazy…"

He snorted. "Yeah, the kids. Not _me_."

"Isn't that my ultimate goal?" She murmured, her blue eyes cast down, somehow magnified by the glasses.

"Uh… yeah, but… I mean… is it? No, don't answer that. I… you look incredible, Bones, it's just… come on!"

"_What_?"

"I… you…" He sighed, then found his words. "You look brilliant. You'll knock them dead, again. I just wasn't expecting it. You caught me by surprise."

She smiled. "Great."

"No, not great. Not so great."

"_I_ think it is."

He shook his head incredulously. "You really want to win this one don't you?"

"I always want to win."

The look they shared wasn't a smile, exactly. It was… more than that. "Okay, okay, this one's yours. Let's go."

When the door closed behind their laughter the sunlight didn't seem so bright.

*

They never got to the hotel restaurant.

When they got into the elevator, there was already a couple inside. The man was short and rather fat, sausage-size fingers holding a cane to help himself hobble along. He wore a horrific Hawaiian flower-shirt and a golf tan. One black ring around his finger was the only ostentatious thing he had: the rest could pass for cheap or just plain old bad taste.

He noticed them instantly, and a greasy smile crept on his face. "Hi there." He said, an Okie twang in his voice.

"Hi." Brennan answered automatically. The woman who was with him didn't smile at her. She saw Booth, of course, but when her gaze rested on Brennan there was a venom there that couldn't be hidden.

"I'm Frederick. This is Stacy."

Stacy was a tall, full-lipped, big-eyed beauty. Her hair was long, longer than Brennan's, and blood-red. Her curves were abundant, and well displayed by a white backless dress. Two dark copper eyes shone out of a smooth marble complexion without a single freckle.

And right now, they were drilling into Brennan's with pure, undiluted hate.

"Hey Fred. Do you mind Fred? I'm Rob, this is my Angel."

Booth cursed himself again. He had to stop with the '_my'_.

"I don't mind Fred at all, Rob. Oh, and I never paid much attention in class, Angel…" his eyes flashed on her body but quickly, in a practiced, rather tired way, Brennan thought, as though he was doing it more for appearance's sake than anything else. He did it without giving Booth time to react, which was a good thing.

"… but I might have listened to the teacher if _you_ tried to explain quantum physics to me." He winked. "She's quite… something, Rob."

"I think so, yeah." Brennan said, head held high, thinking she probably knew more about quantum physics than anyone in this entire hotel. Stacy snorted, an unattractive sound.

The motion of the elevator stopped.

"Ah, ground floor. So where are y'all headed?" Fred asked, clearly interested. Booth forced a smile, and his eyes noticed the bikini strap on Stacy's shoulder. He already suspected he knew who these two were, and the Agent in him was going to find out; they were headed to wherever Fred and Stacy were headed. Praying Brennan had something to wear, he answered:

"Pool, of course. First thing I check in every hotel."

Angel giggled. "Not always, darling."

But Rob looked a bit bored with her antics. Instead he smiled at Stacy. "You swim, honey?"

"Sure I do."

"What about little Angel?"

Brennan, who was a head taller than Fred, smiled at him. "Of course."

"Fantastic. We can all go together, eh, Rob?" Fred clapped his pudgy hands and motioned for them to follow him.

As they walked, Angel draped an arm around Rob and measured their combined pace so they could whisper without being overheard. "Why are they here a day early?"

Booth felt his heart swell with pride that she'd come to the same conclusion as him: his Bones was way smarter about people than most of those gave her credit for.

"Same reason as us, except they're not undercover agents."

She giggled seductively, as though he'd just told an intimate joke, and added: "So you think he's 'Red'?"

"Yeah. I'm almost sure."

They went outside to the pool and Brennan's heart plummeted in dismay, because it was packed with people.

"Rob, come meet my brother, Alex!" Fred said suddenly, pointing to a tall, muscled man with sunglasses who sat alone in a white chair. The resemblance between the two was… non-existent.

"Hi." Alex said in dull, deep voice. No muscle rule, huh? Booth wanted to laugh, but he didn't.

"Hey Alex. I'm Rob, this is Angel."

'_My Angel'_ – 2, _Booth_ – 1!

"Hi." Clearly Alex wasn't much for conversation.

"I wanna _swim_." Stacy protested.

"Go swim, then." Fred said happily. "Maybe Angel wants to join you?"

"I'll just change into my swimsuit." Brennan said, cursing herself for not realising this.

"Change?" It was incredible, how easily Fred's tone became suspicious, and the lightness was gone. "I thought you said you were coming to the pool?"

Brennan panicked. The little man was staring at her furiously and the glasses weren't helping much, and she wanted to scream in frustration that she was alone, even though Booth was beside her she was alone…

"Oh, I can explain that." Rob said, his voice shaking with laughter.

Or not.

"Angel… likes to change with me." His raised eyebrows seemed to indicate both that Angel wasn't there in front of him at this very moment, and that she was a little child.

"Really?"

"In front of me, actually." Booth was enjoying this too much. "We didn't count on you guys being here."

Fred's eyes regained their earlier twinkle and Brennan wanted to punch Booth, hard. But he'd saved her ass.

"I see!"

"Yeah. So is it the black one?" Rob asked, again as though he was addressing a little child.

"No." Angel countered, her voice stern and annoyed, looking the part more than ever. "No, it's not the black one."

And she strode off, hips swaying.

"Quite a temper she has, eh?" Fred told his 'brother' Alex, who hadn't moved an inch since he'd been called.

"I know, right?" Rob was also chuckling. "Aw, honey!" She didn't turn. "Which one is it, then!" Still she walked away, until she was inside, and out of his sight.

Booth realised he missed her already.

And then realised he needed to kill himself before he every thought that again, because he could deal with corny and sappy lovey dovey thoughts, but 'Miss you already' was just _wrong_.

"So Rob, tell me about that girl, where did you find her?"

Time to get those gears in motion, and tell a story rehearsed to perfection.

"Well, I was just interviewing my employees and she caught my attention, y'know?"

"Employees, eh?"

"Yeah. She works for me."

"I see."

Fred caught his meaning, and confirmed Booth's suspicions at that moment with just a look. As Rob spoke, Booth thought that there was a good chance he was talking to a killer, and had to fight nausea and keep a smile on his lips as though nothing was wrong.

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_**So yeah, I figure teasing you about what happens in the next chapter is usually bed, because, let's face it, it might take a while to upload…**_

_**Did I said BED? I did, didn't I? I meant **__**BAD! I'm so sorry, I have NO IDEA why BED slipped in there, it's not like there's a BED in the next chapter (just one BED, not two BEDS) and things happen in it…**_

_**Oops.**_

_**;)**_


	10. The Emotional Brain

_**I couldn't resist posting this soon. I hope y'all like! :)**_

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**CHAPTER 10: The Emotional Brain**

The afternoon sun was beginning to sink over the horizon, but still the pool was quite crowded. When the woman in the red two-piece shed her towel, every head turned to look, except one.

"Oh honey, y're lookin' fi-ine…" Fred said loudly the moment Brennan was within earshot.

"Thanks, Fred. Looking okay yourself." She smiled, leaving him chortling (I like her, the kid's got spunk!), then went over to where Rob lay reading a magazine with his sunglasses perched on his nose.

"Rob, don't you wanna swim?" she asked, pouting slightly. Booth kept his eyes glued to the page, not wanting to embarrass himself, and spoke without looking up.

"Didn't take my swimsuit, did I? 'Sides, it's almost dark."

"'Kay."

Brennan sauntered off and looked around for Stacy. It was time to find out why the other girl already hated her, as though they were competing for something and Angel was losing.

The redhead was swimming on the shallow end, bright hair a halo around her in the water. She wore a blue two-piece, and she looked like the little mermaid.

"Stacy!" Angel called, waving.

No reaction.

"Stacy, hey!" Brennan was leaning at the very edge of the pool, and she was starting to attract attention. Stacy was either deaf, or ignoring her.

"Get inside, Angel!" Fred called, taking a seat next to Rob in the white lounge chairs by the side of the pool. "We want to see how you look wet!" His tone was commanding, no longer with a pretence of kindness or sweetness: greed and lust, that was all this man really felt.

Brennan realised, for the first time, that she could strangle this man without remorse. In a simple, crude sentence he reminded her of what she hated the most. The thought frightened her, but it was also liberating: because he was the kind of person who was used to degrading women until there was nothing left to take, who promoted the misogynistic, retarded values she despised.

Booth's hands, meanwhile, ripped the magazine clear apart, the sudden rage in him was so great. But just as quickly as it came, he controlled it, and the calm, blank look on his partner's face helped. Fred hadn't noticed, he was looking at Brennan, waiting for his command to be obeyed.

She did as she was told, of course. It was her job. With a light, athletic step, she ran to the deep end and jumped, head-first. There was a little ripple, and then nothing.

"Be careful with her kind, Rob." Fred muttered. "Trust me, you want to keep them docile, or they start _thinkin'_. Gettin' ideas. You wanna watch out."

"I know, man." Booth managed through clenched teeth. He stuffed the torn paper under the chair, and waited for Brennan to resurface. The sun had almost set.

"Did you hear how she talks back? That ain't never a good sign."

"I'll watch out for that."

"Look at them." Fred said suddenly, eyes glued to the pool, pupils dilated. "Just look at their beauty."

Booth's brain numbly registered that he'd never seen Brennan in a bikini before, but it didn't really sink in until later that day.

Angel was swimming swiftly to Stacy, who sat on the stairs and smiled at the men who gathered courage to talk to her. They _did_ look beautiful, both with hair gleaming in the fading sunlight, shining like diamonds. Angel was a flickering image under the rippling water; to watch her was to try and catch stolen glimpses of white athletic limbs and red cloth. Stacy was serene, smiling, confident. To watch her was to take a breath of fresh air into starving lungs.

When she reached Stacy Angel tried to initiate a conversation, thus dissipating the crowd forming around them.

"To think she's… mine." Fred breathed. Booth tore his eyes away from them and felt sick, he wanted to throw up.

To try and keep the bile down, and feeling that he deserved a small respite, he waved at Brennan, who waved back and once again tried to make Stacy talk to her.

"So how's Fred?" Angel asked, sounding interested.

"The _fuck_ do you care?" Stacy snorted. The coarse words and deeper voice coming from her mouth were like a slap to the face. Obviously she wasn't always simpering and trying to please.

"Hey, you're not the only one in this situation. We're all on the same boat here."

"No, honey, we're not."

"Why not? Look at me! Look at you! We're the same-"

"Stop it." Stacy looked really angry, now. She was almost crying. "Stop saying we're all on the same _fucking_ boat." She splashed into the water and began swimming away, then seemed to reconsider and came back. She spoke looking up at Brennan from the water, her mascara completely ruined.

"The same…? Jesus, Angelina, have you _seen_ the Brad Pitt you're here with?" Brennan couldn't help a glance at Booth, lying on the lounge chair, white shirt open and looking spectacular in the dim light. She wasn't completely certain who Brad Pitt was, but if he looked a little like Booth, he must be attractive. "I'd take a beating from a man and _smile_ after, if he looked like that. Rather than… touch Fred."

What kind of woman would honestly say that? Brennan's heart was going to bruise today, after all the hits it had taken.

"Look at my pig."

Next to tall, dark and handsome, Frederick was short, fat and disgusting. Brennan understood what was happening, and her heart felt heavier in her chest than usual, that this woman should lead such a horrible, horrible life.

"I'm sorry." She muttered before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry Stacy."

Stacy clung to the railing on the metal steps so hard her knuckles were white, and didn't answer. "I…" Angel slid down to the water next to her, but now it felt cold. "I know it's not the same. But what chance do we have if we don't stick together?"

The black tears falling down the Stacy's cheeks hurt Brennan more than she dared show. But at least Stacy didn't look angry anymore.

She murmured something Angel didn't catch.

"Sorry?"

"My name's not Stacy."

"Oh." What else could she say?

"It was Hannah. My name is Hannah."

Angel put her hand over Stacy's.

"Thank you for telling me."

Brennan knew this was Hannah's way of apologising, and smiled tentatively at her. "My name isn't Angel either."

"I figured."

Of course she couldn't say her real name. She couldn't say Temperance.

"It's Camille."

Stacy smiled back.

"That's a nice name."

"Yeah." After a small pause, she added. "Would you like to go back?"

"Sure."

Booth and Fred were talking animatedly, and Brennan had to fight the urge to throw herself in Booth's arms and beg him to make her forget the horrible things Stacy had told her, or not told her.

"Rob?" She crooned instead. "I wanna eat."

"We'll ask the food be sent to our room, 'kay?" Rob said, sounding annoyed. "Let's go."

"Bye, doll!" Fred called.

Booth stood swiftly and left without so much as a goodbye to Fred and Stacy. Brennan turned for a last, sad smile at her new friend, and followed him.

*

"I'm not really hungry." She said the moment the door to their room closed behind her. This time, the light inside the room did nothing to ease her mind, even though it came in the beautiful pink hues of sunset.

"Me neither. I feel like throwing up." Booth muttered gruffly.

"It's just so… degrading! So disgusting, I want to… I feel like killing him!" she burst suddenly. "All of them! I understand that it wouldn't help, that it wouldn't really change that much to kill him, or any of them, because another would take their place… but I _want_ to!"

"I know, Bones. I know." He took her hand and his touch soothed her nerves.

There was no long, drawn out struggle as to who would sleep on the bed. Agent Anderson might have been ashamed to hear what was going on inside their heads, but he couldn't have faulted Booth and Brennan's professional behaviour.

"Want to get some sleep, Bones?"

"Yes. I think it will be beneficial." And that was all they said on the subject.

She sat at the edge of the bed tiredly, and began unzipping her boots. Then she took off her fake glasses and undid her ponytail. It was so tight her scalp hurt, but she didn't let her face show her pain.

Her hair, glossy dark and spilling down to her shoulders, stirred something in Booth he couldn't bear. As her deft fingers gently massaged her sore head and she closed her eyes, sighing with relief, he had the desire to comb it himself. To smell it. To kiss her, to breathe her pure, delicious essence until his brain exploded with it, and only his heart, pumping hot blood through his body, kept him alive.

"I'll go change, now." She said softly, and went into the bathroom.

While she was gone, Booth quickly stripped and tugged on his sleeping shorts, just a plain, dark blue pair. Gabrielle had insisted they take special sleeping wardrobe, but as a precaution, not a compulsory fact. They'd both packed their own pyjamas ("Gabi, who'll see us when we're _sleeping_?"), and Booth felt that the first night would be challenge enough without silk and lace getting involved.

Brennan emerged having removed her make-up, and looking a lot more like herself again. She wore a long black T with a large human skull on the back. Booth laughed, not looking at her long bare legs.

"Wow. That's hardcore, Bones."

"My editor gave it to me when they published my second book. I thought it was rather humorous."

"It is. I love it."

He smiled and she smiled back, feeling a bit less tired than before. Then she noticed that he was already sitting on the bed, the left side, to be precise. Brennan wondered whether he'd known she wanted the side closest to the window, or he wanted to put himself between her and the door.

She decided to pretend she didn't notice his shirtless state, and gingerly walked to the other side of the bed. It didn't seem as huge as it had before, now that they were both about to lie in it.

"Would you like to read before going to sleep?" She asked, sliding under the blankets.

"Yeah, I always do." He grinned, and copied her movement. Then he reached to the suitcase by his side of the bed, and took out his book: _Guns, Germs and Steel_, by Jared Diamond.

"Oh!" she started, looking delighted. "It's fascinating, isn't it? Obviously it's all being treated as hypothesis still, but I find his facts very accurate, and fitting with the evolution of anthropological findings. That our cultural development could be so determined by crops and environmental conditions, in other words, the geographical location of each populace!" Her eyes glowed in the dim light, her face was framed by the starred sky behind her, and Booth couldn't help but smiled warmly back.

"Yeah, I like it too. Lots of chapters sound very familiar though." The smile turned devilish. "You quote him very often, don't you?"

"I'm surprised you noticed." She said honestly. "Are you reading that for… work?" She'd wanted to say _me_ and they both knew it.

"Yeah. Helps me keep up with you a little, and it's very interesting."

Brennan realised with a jolt that they'd moved closer and closer to each other, until their faces were inches apart, and she hastily scooted to her right.

"So what are you reading, Bones?"

He barked a laugh when he saw the title. "The Emotional Brain, by Joseph LeDoux?"

Her guard was up and defensive immediately. "I realise it's very outdated, considering that the field of neuroscience expands every year, or even every month, with new discoveries. But I find it… comforting."

"Comforting?"

"Yes. To learn that there are neurobiological supports for emotion… to know that it's all really based on science… I like that. That not even our hormone production, neural pathways… I like that not even our emotions can escape science."

Booth liked the way she said "escape" and Brennan wondered at her choice of words.

"Do you understand what I mean?" She asked.

"Of course. Makes perfect sense. But does this mean you're opening yourself a bit more to psychology?"

"No!" she said loudly. He laughed. "Emotional neuroscience is an accepted branch of neurobiology and is based on an objective study and interpretation of scientific _fact_. It has nothing to do with guessing what a person is feeling through murky subjective questions, or using your gut. I feel content right now even after the terrible day we've had because my frontal lobe has been flooded with dopamine, the production of which was triggered by the large bed, your comforting presence and exhaustion."

A tense silence followed these words, until:

"You left something out of that pretty speech, Dr Brennan." He said, voice low and rough.

"Did I? I thought I was quite clear."

"Well, you weren't."

"So… what did I lie about?"

Booth didn't point out the leap from 'leaving something out' to 'lying'.

"Dopamine doesn't make you… content."

Brennan cursed her body for responding so obviously to her partner's voice, and once again remembered the move away from him.

"It makes you happy, euphoric, ecstatic. And anyway, a real flood of dopamine, Dr Brennan, is usually triggered by sex, not just a bed and me."

In their minds, the three concepts blended into one.

"Sex." Brennan repeated. Booth tugged the blanket up to his chest, glaring at the ceiling for being so cruel.

"Yeah."

The silence was so charged, neither would have been surprised if lightning had suddenly struck their hotel room.

"Why didn't we just bring novels?" Booth groaned finally, and the tension broke, and Brennan giggled.

"I think I'll sleep now, Booth."

"Okay. Yeah, me too."

"Night."

"Sweet dreams, Bones."

She smiled into her pillow. "You too."

After a few minutes of silence, she turned and saw his large outline against the dark shadows in the room. He wasn't breathing very evenly, but his eyes were closed. Brennan saw that his arm was stretched out toward her, as though calling her to him, hand almost brushing her hair. She had to stop herself from licking his finger or putting it in her mouth, and instead just looked at him, at his chest rising and falling, muscles gleaming in the moonlight.  
It was like this that she fell asleep.

Booth, who wasn't sleeping at all, felt her hot, even breath against his palm and had to stop himself from shifting toward her and touching her lips with hesitant fingers.

It was like this that he fell asleep.

*

They both woke later in the night when they felt their hands touch. Neither spoke, but Brennan curled her fingers around his instinctively, hoping he wouldn't notice or wake up. Booth held tighter in response, telling himself she must be asleep.

That morning, they would have given anything to stay in this position, sweet and innocent, just two children holding hands.

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_**I've actually read both books mentioned in this chapter!**_

_**Anyway, more BED stuff in the next chapter. Feel free to reread the last sentence and imagine what I'm talking about ;)**_


	11. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

_**I know this might sound old, or boring, or innapropriate for a fanfic's AN, but I was wondering if anyone can do me a favour. Could you TWITTER Hart Hanson the following sentence? "**_**Since when did Booth have to tell Brennan to 'never look happy' at a crime scene? Have they all forgotten the first 3 seasons?" **_**or better yet**_**: "Does anyone remember our Season 1 and 2 Booth and Brennan?"**

_**If any of you feels the way I do, could you maybe express those feelings to him? I think it's important that he knows fans haven't forgotten, that we expect top of the notch writing and SOME character consistency?**_

_**Apologies for the rant/novel. You can go read now!**_

_**And**__** ChoeBe, you are officially made of greatness. Seriously, I was so flattered by your comments… I was so moved! I just wish I could have told you by replying ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 11: ****Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)**

"_Bones…" his voice was rich and husky, a low, low growl. They were surrounded and in a crowded place. People on the bar counter, on the dance floor, couples walking by, sitting at tables… but it felt like they were alone. Hidden from prying eyes in their own, private, naughty little bubble where they weren't who they said they were, and only they knew who they'd once been._

_Seeley__Booth and Temperance Brennan, FBI Special Agent and Forensic Anthropologist._

_No longer__._

_He put his hands on her hips and slowly but deliberately pushed her toward him until their bodies aligned. She sighed with pleasure, head lolling backwards and fingers curling in delight._

"_Booth…" her smell was intoxicating, and it was making him feel painfully aroused. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled, while running his hands up and down the sides of her body. "Oh Booth…" she gripped his hands and pressed them harder against her yielding flesh, breathing heavily. "Harder, Booth… here…" one hand she led to her breasts, which so far he hadn't touched, and the other went under her skirt… but now for some reason his mind was telling him something was wrong. This was forbidden territory, this wasn't _allowed_…_

"_Hey."__ He whispered. "Wake up, Bones. Wake up."_

_Wait… wake up?_

Booth's consciousness sprang into his mind with a jolt so sudden he gasped.

But his first instinct wasn't remembering where he was, and it wasn't opening his eyes either. It was wrenching his hands away from between the woman's thighs, the woman his confused brain knew but didn't want to recognise.

She had her legs wrapped around him, their limbs entangled, her fragrance on him, inside him, all around him. He tried not breathing, but apparently human beings aren't really equipped for that. So gently, as not to wake her, Booth tried his best to slide away. But she was clinging to him tightly, and the fact that her breath came hard and fast really wasn't helping. What now, _what now_?

"Hey." He whispered, trying to ignore his uncomfortable hard-on. "Hey, Bones."

She arched her back toward him, and moaned. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, she needed to wake up!

It is, I suppose, a valid point to make that Booth could have simply shouted, but excuses are in order for the following reason: he wasn't really _thinking_, per se.

"Bones, please…" he groaned.

And then she kissed him.

Her eyes were still closed, she _must_ be asleep, but she grabbed his head and pulled him toward her, and then she kissed him hungrily.

So what was a man to do? Powerless, unable to stop himself reacting to her body, he kissed her back. It was instinct, it couldn't be helped. He was, after all, still half-asleep (that's what he later told his conscience). He found himself on top of her before he knew what had happened, and now they were moving together in slow synchrony, and she was moaning and the sound was beautiful. "More…" she gasped. "More, Booth…"

The sound of his name brought him back.

Bones was asleep, _she really was asleep_. It didn't matter that she was rubbing her heat against him, murmuring sweet, unintelligible nothings. It didn't matter that her hand was slowly moving downward…

Seeley, wake up! She'd said his name. It had been too long since he'd felt like this, so drunk with it, so hot, but it was Bones… _sleeping_ Bones, who had no idea what was happening.

He rolled away just in time, and slid off the mattress and onto the floor with a thump. Then he went to the foot of the bed and yanked the sheets down, revealing her body and feeling like someone was squeezing his heart in her nimble, latex-gloved hands.

"Bones, wake up!" He shouted loudly and clearly.

She started, then sat up in a flash, panting. Booth wished he could convince himself that (spectacular) heaving chest was only because of his ruthless wake-up call. She looked confused and was blinking furiously.

"Rise and shine." He added weakly.

Her gaze landed on him instantly, and she didn't say anything about what she saw there while she carefully rearranged her T so it at least went all the way down to her waist.

Her eyes asked questions he couldn't answer.

Suddenly the shame was almost too much to bear. He'd taken advantage of her dream, like a naïve little girl she'd trusted him to keep his hands to himself, hadn't even questioned that they slept in the same bed…

He sprinted to the door, feeling tears spring to his eyes, and he who never cried for pain, nor fear, never cried for love nor sadness… Booth cried for shame.

But he couldn't leave, because there were security cameras in the corridors. So instead he banged his fist against the wall and didn't shout.

"Booth." she was still lying on the bed and she didn't understand what had happened, her scrambled brain was sending all the wrong signals to her body, pulsing and demanding. "Booth what's wrong?" she said shakily, blinking furiously to try and wake up. "I…"

He turned around and the look in his eyes brought her dream freshly in her mind. She remembered kissing and touching a ghost of Booth who loved her back (wait, back?). She remembered asking this spirit, who wasn't real, for more. She remembered telling her Secret to this shadow, she remembered being surprised at hearing herself say that words aloud. And the imprint of Booth's soul in her mind _loved her back_…

Oh no.

"Did… did I say anything? Is that why you…?" she wanted to say 'Is that why you're looking at me like…?' but not even her thoughts could finish the sentence.

"No. You didn't say a thing."

He knew he had to tell her what had happened, what he'd done.

"I'm sorry." His voice broke, and he sank to the carpeted floor, ashamed, so ashamed of himself.

"Hey!"

She slipped off the bed and quickly went to him. He looked devastated, like he was less than Booth, even though he was so large and his broad back reflected the sunlight coming from the horizon. "What happened?"

She crouched down in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders. He was staring murderously at the floor, and his eyes shone.

"Booth." Her tone was strict, suddenly, commanding. "Look at me." She grabbed his chin and forced him to look in her eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"Don't you remember?" he said softly.

"No. Please tell me."

He swallowed. "You don't feel anything?"

Well, that was a different question altogether. In spite of herself, she took a second to analyze her feelings. And boy, were they clear enough and spelled out for her. Short of breath, the blood in her body sang with the need to finish something that had been started, then brutally interrupted. She felt tender and ready, and achingly flushed.

Lying now wouldn't help this situation, even though it might help her. "I recognize certain notable signs." Her voice sounded colder than she'd intended.

He was surprised. He hadn't expected this reply at all, and suddenly he didn't know where to look, how to act.

"I… Bones, I'm sorry."

"_Why_?"

"You were asleep! I shouldn't have… I really shouldn't have done anything. But I did, I was… God, I'm so sorry!"

She gulped. "What… eh, what did you do?"

When his eyes showed panic neither of them were ready to face, she quickly spoke before he could say anything. "Okay, that's okay. But it was my fault too. I remember… dreaming. It's normal, Booth. We shouldn't worry. It's perfectly normal. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll sleep on the floor."

He smiled with cruelty. "Makes _me_ more comfortable? Let me get this straight: because _I_ can't control myself, _you'll_ sleep on the floor?"

"Oh stop it. It wasn't just you. We were tired. We haven't… well, I haven't, I don't know about you, but _I_ haven't had sexual contact with someone of the opposite…"

"Bones!"

"… or same…" She amended.

"That's not really what I was complaining about." But he didn't laugh, he was still looking at the floor.

"I know, Booth." She smiled, and he didn't even see. She couldn't help but add: "But the words 'sexual contact' shouldn't make you uncomfortable-"

"_Please_, Bones. I'm begging here."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." She sat down in front of him, crossing her legs. "But it's true. We might as well admit it." Her tone was conciliatory, and she tried again: "We experienced a natural physiological response triggered by-"

"I know what it was triggered by. I don't need to hear it again." Yet his tone was defeated, lost, never mean. In a way, that made it worse.

"Rationally speaking, it's even more understandable given our current social environment." She said to fill the silence.

He sighed wearily. "Yeah." The darkness hadn't left his eyes yet, but it was fading with the morning light. Brennan took his face in her hands again and risked leaning even closer to him, so their noses almost brushed.

"I forgive you." She whispered. She wasn't quite sure whether this was the appropriate thing to say, because she didn't believe forgiveness was really necessary when the action had been involuntary. But she understood it was what Booth wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry." He breathed.

"I forgive you." She repeated firmly.

"I don't deserve…"

"I don't care about what you think you deserve. I see this rationally, and I don't understand why we must make such a big deal out of something so small. I'd even venture to hypothesise that, if he'd had the courage, Sweets would have warned us about something like this happening."

"You really think that?"

"Yes."

"Since when does Sweets saying something mean you think it's true?"

"I don't. You know I don't believe in psychology, Booth. But you do."

*

All the way downstairs to breakfast, Brennan felt strange. And it wasn't only her pink dress, the one she'd tried fighting in, the first one Gabrielle had made her try on. Nor the black sandals, as dark as her hair, which she'd ironed hastily straight framing her face. No, it had nothing to do with what she was wearing. It didn't even have anything to do with what _Booth_ was wearing, which was much more distracting than her own. Hollywood Rob had on a pair of beige shorts and a black shirt with no buttons, which exposed his muscled chest perfectly. Although that was certainly a bonus issue, hers was more of a neurobiological problem.

Because she knew she'd said lots of things to calm Booth, to reassure him, to help him deal with his misplaced guilt. But she wasn't altogether sure she believed what she'd said. Or at least… that she _trusted_ what she'd said. Did it really not matter? Was it really something insignificant? Her mind knew it was, but her body and her heart refused to believe it.

"Angel, today we should expect to see many arrivals. Formal introductions to Red, I'm sure, plus the rest. Watch out for faces that stand out. Anything that catches your eye, anything out of the ordinary, or special, or strange."

"Always."

She was chewing gum, the same bubbly colour as her dress.

"Be alert, be ready…"

"I _know_, Rob."

The restaurant was a wide, open room with the black-chairs/red-walls/white-floor motif of the entrance hall, but it managed to pull off 'cheerful' with it's floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the pool outside.

A large buffet, at this hour prepared for breakfast, decorated the centre of the room. Pancakes, crêpes, muffins, cake, brownies, croissants, pies, and many other sweet delicacies were surrounded by syrup, marmalade, jam, honey, ice-cream and many other sweet delicacies to put atop them and better their taste.

Brennan spotted Fred and Stacy sitting at a table near the window. They weren't talking at all, instead Fred inhaled his food like a starving homeless man and Stacy glowered at him in disgust. Whenever he looked at her, she smiled idiotically for a moment, and waited for him to avert his gaze so she could roll her eyes. Fred's _brother_ Alex sat at a table next to them, without eating.

"There, Rob." She whispered in his ear.

"Yeah, got them. But take a look at _her_." He pointed.

A girl who couldn't be older than eighteen was sitting alone at a table, looking at her chocolate-covered pancakes and crying. She was short and a little plumper than Brennan, or indeed Stacy. Her face, very round, was ordinary, but her dark eyes might be beautiful if they didn't look red and puffy right now. She was wearing a tight red dress, and matching ballerina shoes, which clashed horribly with her auburn-reddish hair. Next to Stacy's synthetically brilliant red, it was easy to tell who dyed hers and who had natural colour.

"Why her?" Brennan asked as they walked to the buffet.

"I have a feeling."

Angel didn't comment at this, and instead took a piece of chocolate cake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, which Brennan wouldn't have normally chosen to eat.

"Oh, so you'll eat cake and not pie?"

"Please don't start."

He nudged her playfully and she let herself grin.

"Shall we go sit close to them?"

"Yeah."

They walked cautiously to the other pair while looking around them. It was a very large room but they'd come downstairs a little early, so there weren't too many people. Another couple on the far corner were talking animatedly, and seemed too innocent to Booth to be a real threat. Two black men, clearly father and son, sat in the middle, and a family of four sat next to them, being loud and laughing happily. No one looked strange or out of place except the girl in the red dress who sobbed silently.

"Angel!" Stacy cried, leaping to her feet and embracing a very surprised Brennan.

"Good morning, Stacy." Angel replied while Brennan noticed Stacy's right arm exercised a weaker pressure than her left, which was unusual because the woman was obviously right-handed. When they parted Brennan also saw a dark red mark, possibly a haematoma, which hadn't been there yesterday.

"Howdy, Fred. Alex." Rob said winking.

"Hi." Alex said gruffly.

"Rob, Rob, you look like a healthy, wealthy young man."

"Good night's sleep does wonders."

"Sure thing, sure thing. Why don't you sit here, next to us, at Alex's table? He was leaving."

Alex stood up immediately, and Booth detected a hint of relief in his expression, the first emotion the muscled man had exhibited so far.

Rob and Angel sat down where Alex had been not-eating, and Fred and Stacy stood to leave, but suddenly a commotion on the other side of the room distracted the group. The girl Booth had spotted earlier was shouting at a tall black woman wearing a long silver dress and large hoop earrings.

"Leave me alone!"

"Come upstairs, Amber, or I'm making you!"

"My. Name's. Not. _Amber_! It's Sarah! Leave me alone, Mary!"

"I'm saving your life, you ungrateful little…! If you're not back up there in five minutes he's going to get tired of waiting. And you know what that means, right?"

"Yes, and I'm sick of it! I'd rather be _dead_ than up there!"

"Then call your mamma and tell her that!"

This brought fresh tears to the girl's face, and she crumpled back on her chair. "I hate you." She whispered staring at the untouched pancakes. The passion in her soft voice frightened Brennan, but the woman named Mary just shrugged.

"I know. Now come back upstairs and do as you're told."

Even though her tone was as hard as the metal colour of her dress, Brennan saw the weary sadness in the taller woman's eyes, and once again felt angry at the world simply for being as it was.

The two women fled the restaurant, and the silence in their wake made it obvious that every person in the room had been listening to their argument.

"They could have been less obvious." Rob said, rolling his eyes, while Booth gripped Brennan's hand under their table.

"Tell me about it." Fred answered, incredulous. "That little chick sounds like she's out of control already. I have no idea why Mary hasn't let her go yet."

"You know Mary?"

"Oh please, Mary and I go waaay back!" Fred laughed, pleased to be able to boast about something to the young, attractive, successful Hollywood Rob. "She's won some points with EJ now, helping him manage his girls I think."

"Huh. I thought EJ liked to keep his business very tight."

Fred raised his eyebrows, that sudden distrust and suspicion he'd shown yesterday back in his expression. "I meant the girls he keeps for himself, Rob. Not his market. You think EJ would let a woman of Mary's level handle his buisness?"

"Oh, of course!" Booth said, trying not to let his mistake show in his eyes. "It's just that I call the girls in my business _my_ girls, so I was just… heh, funny how these things go…"

"Yeah, funny."

The atmosphere was charged and uncomfortable. Brennan decided some action needed to be taken.

"I don't understand some people." She said to Stacy, using what she thought was hopefully a frivolous, annoyed tone. Dr Temperance Brennan didn't have much time to practice frivolity in her real life. "So selfish, you know? As if someone's _making_ them do it, sheesh."

"Yeah." It was clear that Angel wasn't the only one lying through her teeth in this conversation. "Selfish. You're totally right."

"I agree. No one likes a rebel." Fred said firmly. "Now, who wants to go swim again?"

"But I thought we were meeting your friends today, Fred. You know, that important meeting… we probably won't have time to swim." Stacy said.

"_I_ have the meeting, yes, but it's not until noon. Right Rob?"

"Actually, it's a bit later than that." Booth had spotted the test the moment Fred had tried it, and was thankful for his FBI analyst's work and compiled data. "It's at six in the evening, I think."

"Ah! You're right, I keep forgetting my schedule! Nice to know you'll be there too. Will Angel join us?"

"Please, you knew who I was the moment we met." Booth said, his voice no longer easygoing. By giving Fred more intellect than he'd have if his brain matter somehow sparked to life again, Brennan knew Booth was trying to flatter him while getting him to cut the innocent act. And his mistake before was forgotten when he added: "And the girls never come to these meetings. At least not where I'm from, I don't know what kind of show you're running, Fred."

Fred laughed. "Didn't mean to offend you, Rob! Just being nice, just being nice." He turned to Stacy and slapped her butt. "See, Stacy? Plenty of time to swim."

"Okay." Her expression hadn't changed, and Brennan couldn't detect a hint of strain or anger. No wonder it had seemed like Stacy was nothing more than cold and hateful at first glance. What she did say was: "Are you coming, Angel?"

Angel looked at Rob for permission. "Sorry, Stacy, Angel and I have some stuff to do before the meeting."

"Oh." Again Stacy didn't look disappointed, she just looked superior and nonchalant. Brennan thought about the times when Booth hid his feelings and he _looked_ happy but he wasn't, and wondered whether that wasn't happening to Stacy now too. She must learn how to hide her feelings like the other woman did. "See you later then?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

They shared a warm smile, but-

"Don't get too friendly now!" Fred warned in mock-outrage, while pushing Stacy toward Angel, just a little too hard so she stumbled. "I might be jealous."

"Aw, Fred, you know you're the only one for me!" Stacy crooned, regaining her balance. And kissed his cheek.

"Whatever. See ya, Rob."

"In a bit."

The unlikely couple left, and Brennan sighed with relief the moment Frederick was out of her sight. Despite the cliché those two seemed to fulfil, she felt a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach, which she tried to illustrate to her partner. "Booth, I hate him so much I want to… I don't know, release the pent-up anger in a physical form and express the extent of my feelings of outrage. Apparently some people throw things. I'd like to do that now, please."

"We can't do that, Bones. Unless you want to blame the broken furniture on something else."

They'd been far, far away from sex at that moment, but somehow he brought it back into their minds in a second. The situation was too grave, however, for the thought to really stick.

"Then breaking his neck sounds like an appropriate choice, I think." She fumed.

Booth let go of her hand, having remembered it was his for a moment, and didn't answer. He'd chosen apple pie and chocolate ice cream, and decided he might as well eat while his stomach could take it. He and Brennan hadn't had food since yesterday lunch.

"And Stacy has problems with her right arm she didn't have yesterday when she was swimming." Brennan added, remembering the hug. "I think he hurt her."

"Seriously? That's terrible. Do you think he hits her?"

"Yes." Her voice was deep and sad. "No bone damage, at least, I'm quite sure. No dislocation either, she wouldn't have a range of movement, it would be too painful. But it could be muscular, maybe even a torn ligament. She should have it checked by an expert."

"Maybe you could mention this to her."

"I don't know, Booth." And he knew how much it cost her to admit this, and even more what she said next. "I'm scared for her. For Stacy and for that girl, Sarah. For all of them. Even for me I'm very, very scared."

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_**Next chapter title is "Bad Things". If you haven't heard it, it's a song (which by **__**TOTAL coincidence is the theme song for one of my fav shows, True Blood!) by Jace Everett. Great tune, I'd recommend you give it a listen!**_

_**:)**_

_**PS. Oh and also, **__**BAD THINGS happen in that chap. All sorts of bad… muahahahaha!**_


	12. Bad Things

_**Hey**__** everyone!**_

_**Took a bit longer, wrote a bit more. This chappie ain't for the faint-hearted (especially the end) and believe me when I say it lives up to it's title. So youngsters tread with caution. ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 12: Bad Things**

As breakfast progressed, Booth and Brennan's appetite (for food) became more and more apparent, as if every mouthful just made them hungrier (for food).

It was, therefore, closer to noon than they'd planned by the time they left the restaurant. Booth had promised to explain why he'd told Stacy that he and Angel would be busy once they got to their room.

But as they turned the corner to take the elevators, they found they couldn't even get into the foyer: it was packed with people waiting to go up to their rooms as well, either because they'd just had breakfast or because they'd been swimming in the morning.

In unspoken agreement the two elegant figures turned away from the crowd and took the stairs. It wasn't mentioned that a Penthouse floor was… well, very high up. In the same way, they didn't need to tell each other that it didn't matter how high up it was or wasn't. They just couldn't put on a good enough show right now, not after the drama at the breakfast table only an hour ago. So the silence and company was like a breath, and being themselves, if only for a few moments, felt better than anything.

*

The steps blended into an endless climb. At first, it had felt free. Not to think, not to speak, just rise higher and higher. But the further up they went, Brennan felt worse. Around the twenty-eth floor she began to feel a little nausea, and had to blink several times to clear her vision. After an extended period of abstinence (from food), she'd eaten very unhealthily this morning, and adding this sudden exercise wasn't helping. Obviously, she chose to stomach the pain in her chest and sore quadriceps, to hold on without a grimace for as long as she could. But her head felt light and the cream coloured walls around her blurred with every step. At least Angel wasn't wearing high heels.

By floor number forty, however, Brennan was clinging to the banister unsteadily, but keeping pace so he wouldn't notice anything was wrong.

At forty-two Booth realised he was sweating, which usually meant the rest of the world were dragging their exhausted, beaten bodies around the floor. So he turned to check on Brennan, and realised just how pale she looked, even a little feverish.

"Angel, you feeling okay?"

She stopped with a gasp of relief and opened her mouth to speak, and Booth knew she was going to use his name just by the expression on her face. Because she'd forgotten there were cameras on the stairs, and he was paralyzed for a second while her lips parted, as if in slow motion… what could he do to stop her without seeming like a complete lunatic?

But it took his natural reflexes no more than that second. The _Special_ in Special Agent was there for a reason. He slammed his body against hers and both against the wall, possibly in places where bruises would happen.

"Oh, Angel!"

Brennan felt like she would explode and the little bits of debris she left behind would be confusion, surprise, panic and… panic again. It felt so strange, so alien, this fake embrace and oh how she wished it were _real_.

"Bones…" he whispered against her ear, while his body covered hers from the camera completely. His voice was so soft she could barely understand him. "Bones, they can see us here, and nowadays most security systems use sound by default, even in stairways. Especially at a hotel like this. It's unlikely anyone will be checking, but just in case… we can't risk using our names except in the Sunshine room. Two undercover New York Agents swept it for bugs the day before we arrived, or we couldn't even talk normally in _there_."

"Okay. I'm sorry, I knew that." Brennan said, her keen eyes immediately catching the subtle black gadget on the high corner. She angled her body so her face would be hidden from view, and mouthed: "How did you know I was going to use your name?"

His palms, for the benefit of the camera of course, rested on her hips and she realised her body was fragile in his strong arms. In her muddled state she hated being his to break.

"You were going to lie and say 'Booth, I'm fine'." He grumbled.

She entwined her hands in his hair and clung to him for balance. "But how did you know?" she asked again, feeling dizzier than before. It would seem to the camera as though they were kissing passionately: instead, Brennan was fighting to stay upright.

"I know you, Bones."

Space. She suddenly needed space, because his eyes when he said that… room to breathe, she wanted more… _distance_, less closeness, she couldn't stand it.

So Angel managed a shaky smile and pushed him away, forcing that smile into a laugh, head pounding with every beat of her heart. His eyes screamed that this was not a good idea, that she wasn't well. But she ignored him.

"Rob, this is better done upstairs!" She teased, climbing a step.

"Come back!" He pleaded. They both did: Rob _and_ Booth in one anguished voice calling for the Angel to return.

She laughed again in her deep, throaty voice, a dull throbbing in her temples.

"You'll have to catch me." She climbed a few more steps. Being away helped, she could breathe now.

"Angel!"

"Catch me!"

And she sprinted away, her movements made clumsy by the way the ground seemed to shift under her feet. But at least she was free, free of the Secrets screaming inside her head, screaming that they were true, that they were there and she couldn't shout them down when she felt so dizzy she could barely stand.

"Angel, I'm telling you to stop!"

"Come get me!"

"You can't escape me!" He shouted.

At Rob's words she slammed to a stop, again clutching the banister to hold herself up, and forced deep, shuddering breaths into her body. There had been a fierce, violent emotion in his voice as he said that she'd never escape him, ever, and for a moment she was frightened that his words were true, that her Secret would never die and she'd be his, always his…

And what scared her was what she felt as this thought invaded her clouded mind.

"Yes, I can!"

But she couldn't. She waited patiently for him, knowing the cameras would most definitely be watching now if they hadn't been before.

"Gotcha!"

Rob reached Angel as she began to fall, and his expression of concern completely ruined his gloating tone. He immediately took her in his arms, carrying her full weight. "Bones, we're taking the elevator." Booth whispered.

Her body was limp, and he coaxed a burst of speed from his legs despite the added weight Brennan presented.

The bright light in the hall of floor forty-three made Brennan open her eyes.

"Rob, put me down!" Angel squealed weakly.

"I told you to come back. You disobeyed me. So, we're going to our room, and you'd better do as I say."

"Oh I'll come, don't you worry."

This was for the benefit of the two businessmen waiting to go down for a very late breakfast. Looks of equal shock and horror made their faces look like cartoon characters, as though Rob and Angel's banter was R-18 material. The one on the right actually had the nerve to shake his head in disgust, even though his eyes never left Brennan's dress, which had ridden up her thighs as Rob carried her.

Booth eyed the pair angrily, decided they were harmless, and let them stand there. And live.

For now.

"Bye." Angel waved cheerfully when a lift going up opened behind them.

Booth laughed, and set her down as the doors were closing. He took a step back and looked at his partner, to assess her state. She was standing, at least.

"I shouldn't have exerted myself like that. It's possible I have functional dyspepsia and a bit of heartburn. It will pass." Brennan realised she was being Angel, and added. "But I feel like hell!"

"If you feel like throwing up, warn me." Rob's voice said _get away from me_, but Booth's eyes said _I'll take care of you_.

*

The instant the door shut behind him, Booth took her in his arms again like she weighed nothing more than a rag doll (although she did, quite a lot more; Brennan was all muscle).

"Booth, I feel better. Put me down."

"Nope."

"On the bed, if you want, but put me down."

He raised his eyebrows. "You want me to lay you down on our bed, Angel? Is there anything else I can do for you? To you? With you?" He grinned boyishly and Brennan punched him on the chest. It was a strong blow, and Booth realised she really was better.

"Okay, okay, I'm putting you down."

She straightened her skirt and sat on the bed, taking deep breaths. "My head feels perfectly clear now. I apologise for that ridiculous loss of focus, I almost compromised our cover."

"Everything went fine."

"Not really."

"Yes, it did. Stop worrying and let's start this."

"Start what?"

He went to get his suitcase and took our a black metal box with a keyhole.

"Here it is."

"Start what, Booth?"

"Wiring up, Bones."

She started nodding in understanding, then stopped, because the motion wasn't ideal. "But _I_ don't need a wire, do I?"

"Yes, you do." He was exasperated. "We never know when some information might be valuable, Bones, we went through this."

"I know, I'm sorry! But I just think it's rather unnecessary!"

"You can't be the judge of that!"

"But I-"

"You said you'd trust me. _Trust me_ now."

She fumed silently. "Fine. But when I come back with three hours worth of meaningless chatter, you'll be sorry. We don't have that many batteries, you know."

"For the last time, it's important! And we'll be fine with the batteries."

"I said fine. I'll do it, give me the thing."

"Good."

He opened the box and revealed three sets of recording digital mikes with ten hours duration. They were small, round and black, and could be stuck to a surface or an accessory on the person wearing them, but they used small and powerful magnets, so the surface must be metal. Just sound for now, because they only had one camera with video feed and today was mostly introductions anyway, which meant probably nothing compromising would be said until at least a couple more meetings. Also, the camera was larger and therefore harder to conceal, and there was a security check for everyone, no exceptions, before entering the room where compromising things might be said.

Booth began fiddling with controls, preparing settings, the range, the volume…

"It's a pretty standard system, Bones. Come here." He motioned for her to join him on the floor, while he rummaged in the suitcase. "Got it."

"Booth." She tapped his shoulder. "How long do you think before Hollywood Rob's people realise he's not on vacation, but been arrested?"

He smiled as he worked, happy she was asking smart questions. "Hopefully, a very long time. Thing is, it was all kept under lid, of course, the moment we arrested him. The guy's cooperating fully with us, right? Well, he calls them every week."

"_Really_?" She sounded genuinely surprised, which wasn't a common occurrence, and his heart leapt in his chest as he continued to explain.

"I know! We got him to call with instructions! Brilliant, right? Plus, it's not a vacation, that would sound ridiculous, he's in a meeting with the other big traffickers, isn't he? They think he's_ here_, they think I'm him! And the people here think I'm him too! _Everyone_ in the world thinks I'm him! I'm a genius!"

She nodded proudly, thinking that he probably didn't mean that every single person in the world thought he was Hollywood Rob, because there globe's population… anyway, _she_ knew and she was someone who didn't think Booth was Rob, that was demonstration enough.

"I have to admit I'm impressed, Booth. And that doesn't happen often."

He suddenly sat very straight and looked comically serious.

"Yes, I _am_ quite impressive. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Bones, you can sit down if you want."

"I'm already sitting down." She said confusedly.

He deflated, smiling fondly. "It was… a… joke, never mind."

"Oh. Shall we… wire you up?" She motioned to the open box lying abandoned next to him, and he retrieved the two microphones.

"I'm wearing this, are you changing?" He eyed the pink dress wearily.

"Of course. Angel changes all the time. But let's do you first."

"You do mine and I'll do yours?"

There was a glint in her eye when she answered, and he knew she'd caught him. "Sure."

"Okay, I'm wearing it on my belt-buckle."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What's wrong with my belt-buckle?" He almost sounded offended. It was the 'Cocky' one which Gabrielle had had no objection to Hollywood Rob wearing.

"Nothing. I just thought it would be on your lapel… or a pin, or something. On your chest."

"Most pins aren't practical to stick this in. And half aren't actual metal, Bones. No magnetism. Plus, the range on it is pretty good, and the belt buckle makes it harder to find. I told you, there are checks."

"Okay, okay. So… can't you just place it yourself?"

"Have to be checking my sound reception." He took a tiny white earplug (or what looked like a tiny earplug, once it was inside his ear you couldn't even guess it was there) and put it on his ear. "This makes sure the wire is actually working, and I can hear what the wire hears."

"Oh. So if you hear it too faintly you know you have to get closer?"

"Exactly. It also amplifies sound around me a little. And remember, I'm recording this for intel. We need solid facts. They're probably not going to actually _say_ anything related to girls or business today. Our talks to Red were rare, and I can't help thinking that was suspiciously sloppy already."

Brennan was surprised. She'd thought Fred a cruel, vile, sick man, but never had she imagined he was smarter than he looked. Suddenly his behaviour made a little more sense, and she wished, once again, that she could judge things like these on her own, like Booth did, without needing him to tell her.

"He was testing you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Bones. A test."

"Did you pass?"

"I think so."

"Good." There was a moment of silence. "So give me your belt-buckle." She said, holding out her hand.

Booth did, and placed the small magnetic device on the inside.

"Ouch!"

The moment he switched it on, his ear got a blast of static. Even her fingers brushing against the mic sounded like crashing waves inside his brain.

"Booth! Are you okay?" Her voice rang in his ear.

"Shh! Please!" his voice turned to a whisper. "No talking, okay? Just a sec." He adjusted the volume until he could hear without going deaf. "Okay. Careful how you move this thing now."

"I've got it, I've got it." She got down on her knees in front of him and they both realised at the same time how very uncomfortable this was going to be.

"So… how's the range so far?"

'I can hear every breath you take.' He thought, the roar of air deafening in his ears, in and out, in and out… "Great." But it wasn't. It was anything but great, it was so painful, worse than any other test he'd ever had to endure…

Her hands, never hesitant, clipped the buckle onto his belt with precision. It was over in one quick movement, she never touched him, no matter what images her brain was happy to supply. But then she looked up and it was all Booth could do to think about dead kittens, not that stuff like that ever really worked with Bones…

"So, how about now?"

"It's fine, you can stand up. Please."

She did, and took a step back for good measure. She didn't comment on his rushed, strangled tone, he didn't say anything about the redness of her cheeks, blushing was so rare for Bones. "What about now?"

"Yeah."

She walked a few paces away. "And now?"

"Talk. I mean, longer sentences."

"Okay. Can you really hear every word I enunciate or is it harder for you to discern the further I move away-?"

"It's great. Maybe move back a bit more."

She did. Her voice was soft and quiet, but he heard her perfectly when she said: "I'm really glad I'm not alone."

"You'll never be alone here. Not while I'm here too." Booth said immediately.

She smiled. "It could pick that up from this range?" she dropped her voice even lower, and backed against the farthest wall. "What if… I say… that it's not just that… that I'm glad it's _you_ I'm here with?" She was quoting him, from the two days ago on the plane.

"I wish you would."

"It's true, Booth, I-"

A loud, urgent banging on their door startled them both. A girl was screaming outside their room, beside herself in fear. "Help! Help me! Please help!" her voice was raw panic, and anguish so gut-wrenching it terrified Brennan, gluing her to her spot against the wall.

But it didn't immobilise Booth. Too used to responding to cries for help in his line of work, he acted. Before he knew what he was supposed to be doing, who he was supposed to be to everyone in this hotel except Brennan, Booth sprinted to the door and wrenched it open.

She burst into the room, knuckles bleeding, crying black tears just like Stacy had that day in the pool. It was Amber, Sarah, the girl they'd seen crying over her chocolate pancakes only a few hours ago. But she wasn't wearing the red dress from breakfast: she was wearing a thin satin robe and nothing else. And the robe was covered in blood.

"Help me..."

Her body crumpled to the ground and she fainted, but not before Brennan saw the extent of her injuries.

"Booth, shut the door." Brennan shook away any vestigial shadows of weakness and took the girl in her arms. With Booth's help, they lifted her carefully onto the bed. He turned away, to give this poor girl some respect, while Brennan examined the wounds.

"These are deliberate cuts. Too sharp to be accidental, breaking glass would leave evidence behind… knife cuts, Booth." There was one on her neck, one on her thigh, two on her face (right and left cheek), her feet, her hands... "I'm not a medical doctor, but this one is bad." She pointed to the one on her thigh. "The others look more superficial, this is deeper, she must have struggled-"

"Oh, God."

"We need to get her to a hospital. Now."

"How?" He felt like someone had just yanked a rug from under him. "Bones, we can't compromise our cover!"

"She's been cut with a knife!" Her voice was dangerously loud. "We have no other choice!"

"And miss the meet? What excuse could Rob possibly-"

"You're _Booth_ now. Booth would never let a girl bleed to death." She didn't understand what was happening.

"Bones, the fate of thousands of girls like this one is in our hands. We can't miss the first meeting, there's just no way-"

Her eyes sparkled with fury. "The fate of _this girl_ is in our hands now. What do you propose, to leave her here with me and let's _hope_ I can do something to help her?" Her question said that she was afraid to carry the burden of keeping the girl alive in her shoulders. But Booth knew it went beyond that, he'd worked with newbies before, breaking at the first sign of someone else's suffering, never their own.

"I'm saying I can't take her." He spoke firmly, hoping to make Brennan see sense. But he knew how difficult I would be, how someone who wasn't as hardened by experience as him would feel about this. "There's too much at stake, that's the reason I didn't want you to come. You don't understand, you're not a trained… these situations happen sometimes."

She felt like he'd slapped her, but she pushed the pain aside.

"Then I will. I'll take her. Without you."

His hand on the bed-post looked white, he was gripping it so hard. He'd realised what she'd make him do now, because she wasn't strong enough to do it herself. "Bones, no one can see you leave the hotel alone with this girl, you hear me? Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if your cover is compromised? _When_ it is, because it will be. This mission is bigger than both of us! _Trust_-"

"No. Don't ask me to trust you." Her voice was ice-cold and monotone, all the better to hide what she felt. "Don't say this mission is bigger than her. The best you can do now is get out of my way."

"I can't do that. I won't let them hurt you. For all we know EJ is waiting outside this door."

"Booth, look at her."

Sarah's breathing was shallow, her eyes closed, the silky fabric clinging to her chest, almost soaked through. "I'm not arguing about this. Either you get out of my way or I make you."

"You can't make me, Bones, not if you're hoping to take her with you, and you know that. If I don't want you to leave, you're not leaving. And I don't want you to get hurt, or to get Sarah hurt even worse."

"I can't believe this; Booth, she can't get hurt much worse! Look!"

Despite himself, he did.

The cut was deep, he'd probably hit an artery, the son of a bitch. And it could get infected. Not to mention the cuts on her face and neck were also flowing freely. It was garish to see. What was worse was that Booth had seen things like this before, things just as bad.

"Do you think she's the only one? Do you really think…? You're so naïve you think this is the only one he hurts?" he muttered, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"She's the only one we can save right now! Get out of my way!" She stood up from the bed, her voice shaking with passion. Because anger is a passion, anger at being manipulated. "And don't call me naïve!"

It was so strange to think that a minute ago she'd been telling him she was glad he was there with her, when she wished nothing more now than that he let her leave.

"Bones-"

She struck him. She wasn't thinking, she was blinded by the image of the girl and the fear.

"Booth, you have to let me do this. You have to let me go. Please, let me save her." Her voice was softer, an apology, but he didn't blame her for doing it. He felt a trickle of blood roll down his face, and realised Brennan's hands were wet with it.

"Temperance, listen to me now. You can't leave this hotel without being seen, not with a bleeding girl in your arms. You just can't, they're already looking for her. So that means you'll be caught, which will lead to a whole new level of hell, for both of us. And I won't be able to save you on my own."

"Then we've reached an impasse." She said sadly. "Because I'm not going to let this girl die. See this rationally, Booth, see it for what it is-"

"It's you who's not seeing this rationally, Bones. And you know why? Because in your mind, your life is never a variable in the equation. It never matters. Well, it's not just your life at stake here. If you leave and don't come back, my life will be at risk too. If they figure out what you've done, Stacy and all the girls like her will keep living in fear of what happened to Sarah today. Have you considered this? Have you considered what you'll be doing? It will mean our entire operation is cancelled. Not just that, we lose Hollywood Rob as an asset, we ruin our chances of catching five important criminals... we'll have warned them ourselves! They'll close ranks, Bones! And once they do, it might take us decades to get a crack like this at them again."

"Sarah-"

"The Deputy Director won't want you working with the FBI anymore. He'll sever our partnership, he'll have you discredited... Bones... listen to me. I know it's impossible, but listen to what I'm saying."

"Are you proposing we hide her here? Let her die here? What would we do with the body?"

He recoiled from the ice in her tone. "No! She won't die, we can help her until Mary or someone else decides to take her to the hospital."

"She could lose her leg, if infection sets in. If they're not fast enough. If they don't bother. We're leaving this up to _Mary_?"

"We don't have a choice. We can patch her up now and..." His voice was choked. "Bones, we can patch her up now, we can do something, right?"

They stared at each other, unable to believe what was happening.

"She's so young-" Brennan began, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

And that was when the door opened, and James the bellboy was shouting cheerfully: "Room service!"

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_**I know. I know.**_

_**I don't even have an excuse this time.**_

_**But I thought you guys liked the cliffies…**_

_**No?**_

_**Ah. **_

_**Well, then…**_

_***runs away***_


	13. Love is our Resistance

_**Okay, here goes!**__** The chapter title is in honour of MUSE's new album, The Resistance, out on the 14th (yeah, I wanted to post this update sooner, and couldn't ;). It's an incredible piece of music by my favourite band in the universe, but I'm not boring you guys with details.**_

_**Also, **__**I'd just like to say I loved the premiere. Seriously, I'm not a very big Season 4 lover (in fact… ugh, anyway) but I did like this, it felt a little more like the show I fell in love with :)**_

_**On with the **__**story!!!**_

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**CHAPTER 13****: Love is Our Resistance**

"Room service!"

James was pushing a trolley with fresh towels, new sheets, and cleaning material, and didn't see them at first. Neither Booth nor Brennan had thought to put up the 'Do Not Disturb' sign, and since it was probably almost one in the evening by now, the staff were coming to fix their rooms.

For about five seconds no one moved. James took a vase with new flowers on it and arranged them neatly, singing softly to himself. The boy could carry a tune, you had to give him that. And he hadn't been expecting to find anyone inside, so he didn't even look up. "_I don't know what you done to me but I know this much is true: I wanna do bad things with you…"_

But then Sarah gave a small yelp of pain, eyelids fluttering before she lost consciousness again, and he whipped around.

Booth sprang to action, slamming the door shut so no one would hear a scream that never came.

"Oh my God…" the vase fell to the floor and shattered, the water in it soaking the carpet around James' feet. "What happened to her?"

It occurred to Booth much later in the day that James never suspected them of having anything to do with hurting Sarah. He immediately trusted they wanted to help her as much as he did, perhaps with the innocence of youth, or perhaps he was a better judge of character than they'd imagined.

"We don't know." Booth admitted.

"I didn't see any blood outside. I'm sorry I didn't knock, I don't usually do rooms. Uh, to tell the truth, today's a first, I… I'm a bellboy, not… I was covering for a friend…" The kid seemed to lose his train of thought as his eyes took in the scene again, Sarah's unconscious form, Brennan seemingly ignoring him and working to staunch the blood flow, Booth standing next to the bed as though he was guarding or protecting them. "She's… so…" A contrast of colours, the fiery red of her hair against the white sheets, the crimson stains against her pale skin. "So… vulnerable." He looked desolate, lost in the vision of the girl in pain. "Why would anyone…? Why would they…?"

Brennan looked up at him for a second, her eyes clouded with tears.

"Who did this to her?" Suddenly James' voice rang with fury, his electric green eyes sparkled at the thought of revenge, to break, to hurt anyone who'd have the heart to do this to such a defenceless, beautiful girl. And in his anger he looked fierce, handsome and powerful, and just as vulnerable as the one he wanted to save.

Suddenly Booth stood in front of him, blocking both women from view. "No." his voice was strong and commanding. "Snap out of it, James, we don't have time for that." Because Booth knew exactly what was going through the boy's mind, he knew how to control it now but he'd felt it too, when he was younger, and it was useless, and dangerous.

"Time for-?"

"The brave hero act. No time. She's losing blood, we need to get her to a hospital."

"Who _are_ you people?"

"James! What did I just say?"

Besides carrying a tune, James could handle a situation. "No time. Okay, I get it."

"Good, can you drive?"

"Sure."

"Have a car?"

"No, but a friend of mine can lend me his, it's a van with-" Seeing the look on Booth's face, he stopped short. "Yes, have a car."

"Good. We need you to drive her to the closest hospital."

"The Presbyterian is closest, I think. I mean, okay, I'll do it. But why can't you-?"

"James!"

"Okay, okay, no time! Geez!" His eyes softened when he looked at Sarah again. "How will I get her to the car? It looks bad. Is it bad?"

Booth shook his head, he wasn't going to answer the question. "You got friends working here, right? Call a couple of them, get them to come to the floor beneath ours and then you all take her down. Carefully."

"The floor _beneath_-?"

"No one can know she came to our room, get it? James, you found her on the corridor, passed out, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'm doing this because I know you'll give me the answers when I get back, right?"

"Right." Booth said.

"Because you know I _can_ tell anyone what I really found, the second I'm not happy with your explanation as to why I can't."

"I think that makes sense, kid."

And James didn't doubt them again.

"So I'll go get a couple of colleagues."

"Friends." Brennan croaked, the first words she said since the boy had found them. "They need to be friends of yours who don't ask too many questions, and won't tell anyone about this. If the girl survives… her bosses won't want a hotel inquiry as to why she had to be taken to the ER in the first place. We need them not to be bothered, we need them to be left alone. It's important, we'll tell you why when you get back. Your friends can't ask too many questions, okay?" She repeated.

"Okay, Angel."

"Don't call me that." She said tiredly, and once again went back to tending to Sarah's wounds.

"James, hey!" Booth snapped his fingers. "Go _now_. Be quick about it."

"Wait, you'll be seen." The bellboy pointed out. "Everyone's either coming down for lunch or coming back from breakfast. Or going swimming, or the gym, midday is busy hour. If you take the hotel elevators you'll be seen."

"Then what other option do we have?"

"I'll take her down the staff elevator. Hardly anyone even uses the thing, it's big enough and I'm one of the few people with the key. I'll tell my friends to wait downstairs, I just need you guys to carry her there. Give me five minutes on my cell."

"Where are the doors to the staff elevator?"

"The ones on this floor are down the corridor, at the end."

"I thought this was the end." Brennan said while she used one of Gabrielle's precious scarves to wipe blood off of Sarah's leg.

"Other end. There's the door to the STARLIGHT Suite, and next to it the elevator."

"_Next_ to it? No way."

"Bones-"

"No way! That's got to be EJ's room, they'll hear us! They'll take her back! I'm not leaving her life in their hands!"

"Who's EJ?" James piped in.

"What did I _just_ say like, two seconds ago?"

"No time! Fine! I'm going! Just figure out a way to get her in front of those elevator doors. I'll meet you in five minutes."

"Yes, yes, five minutes, kid. And…" Booth's voice was deep and sincere when he added: "Thank you for helping us."

"I'm doing this for her." James said, and left the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Brennan immediately rounded on Booth. "There's no way we'll go past EJ's suite unheard. Sarah was in no condition to take the lift when she escaped, she must have simply stumbled forward and found our room by luck. Her leg is… she couldn't have walked much, not without leaving a lot of blood on the floor. I don't know why they didn't run after her, but Mary's probably in there waiting for us to deliver her to their door. I won't let them get her again."

Booth saw Brennan's arms and thought she looked like she was wearing long scarlet gloves, glistening bright against the ruined pink dress. So he spoke kindly, wishing none of this had happened to her. Wishing it hadn't happened at all.

"Bones, Mary's probably out looking for Sarah by now, but if there's no blood to lead them to our room, like James said, then they won't come here. Remember who we're supposed to be: Rob would have tossed the girl back out, or ignored her, or called them and told them she was here. They'll think she went downstairs, that she managed to call the lift. EJ might still be in his suite, but did you hear anyone walking past our door today? No, because it's all soundproof." He took a step toward her and put his hands at either side of her tear-streaked face: what a day they'd been having. "You know all this, Temperance. I need you to relax now and remember what you know, okay? Remember who you are." he spoke softly, as though she was a child.

"But… but you know who I am, right?" She looked at him. She was slightly in shock, her pupils too dilated.

"Yes. But I need you to remember too. For Sarah."

He knew Brennan was no stranger to pain, to suffering, he knew how connected she was to her work. And he also knew that she'd never really gotten used to victims who were still alive: either she needed to distance herself and rationalise every detail, or _this_ would happen. And there was no distancing from Sarah now, no hiding in the lab, the girl was right there in front of them, and Brennan was fighting to keep her alive.

"I don't think I can stop the haemorrhaging, but I've slowed it down." She said slowly, blinking the emotions out of her eyes. Slowly coming back to herself.

"Good, see?" his voice was gentle, soothing. "We're going to help her after all, Bones. She'll be all right."

"I'm sorry." She said, without looking at him, and without elaborating. There would be time for herself later, this moment didn't belong to her. And she went back to work, and her hands no longer trembled, her fingers worked efficiently without hesitation.

"How is she?"

"She'll live if they didn't completely sever the femoral artery. Which I'm hoping they didn't. But to move her now is a terrible idea. I just wish we could call the hospital and have them send an ambulance, they could take her in a stretcher which is what she needs…"

"We've discussed this. No."

"I know. I shouldn't wish things that can't happen, it's irrational. Forgive me."

"Bones, just tell me what I can do to help."

"Tear up more sheets. We'll need James to help us clean this up later, by the way, or I don't want to know how many questions we'll be asked."

Booth did as he was told, quickly ripping strips of white and passing them to Brennan, who wrapped them tightly around the wound. "The rest of the cuts are mostly minor, the only other potentially dangerous one is this here, but I'm fairly certain it's not." She pointed to Sarah's neck. "There's hardly muscle to separate windpipe and skin, and she's incredibly lucky they knew what they were doing."

"Meaning?"

"Well, the wound is clotting already, which means no major veins or arteries have been hit, which means the cut is very precise and shallow, no matter how much it seemed to bleed at first. This tells me he knew how to… _where_ to cut, so she wouldn't be in real danger of bleeding to death. He just didn't count on her struggling later."

"I don't like the image that's forming in my head right now."

They both looked at Sarah again, and realised they'd have to lift her off of the bed soon, James would be waiting.

"Bones, you said the cut in her neck is fine?"

"I'm quite certain it is. But not a hundred percent, Booth."

"We'll have to risk it. I'll carry her, okay? You just make sure there's no blood on the floor."

"There won't be. The minor cuts are already clotting, and I cleaned away most of it as adequately as I could. Just be very, very careful with her leg."

Booth gripped Sarah's torso and propped her upright. The girl didn't wake, but at least he could feel her strong pulse (too strong) beat frantically against his chest.

Brennan tucked the robe in tighter, and held Sarah's leg steady while Booth lifted the body in the air. She wasn't skeletal thin, not chubby either, just not supermodel material, but Booth lifted her easily.

"Okay, open the door and we'll do this as fast as we can without hurting her."

Brennan ran to the door and opened it so Booth could squeeze through. The sunlight spilled from their room into the corridor, but Brennan quickly closed the door behind them. She went ahead to make sure the corridor on the other side was deserted, and to her surprise and relief, it was. Either Mary had gone to search for Sarah on another floor, or she hadn't even bothered. For some reason Brennan knew it was the former, that Mary would never have abandoned the girl in her current state, no matter how harmful it could be to EJ if it was found out and proven it was his fault. The dark wooden door with STARLIGHT written on it in silver letters looked ominous, but silent.

James was already waiting with the elevator doors open and a towel in his hands. "If someone finds me, I'll admit I was covering for a friend on cleaning duty, and I'll tell them I found her in the hall, so that's why I took this towel from the tray to wipe the blood off." He said quickly.

"Smart kid. Well done. Now be very, very careful how you move that leg, the cut is bad."

"Oh. O-Okay"

Suddenly James seemed a little overwhelmed, his eyes wide at the responsibility, even nervous. But he took Sarah's weight without a glitch, he was tall with strong arms.

"Thank you." Brennan said suddenly, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much, thank you, James."

The boy just nodded as the doors closed between them without a noise.

"Bones, let's get back to our room. We can't be seen like this."

"Of course, you're right." She whirled around and was sliding the card-key to get inside before he'd had time to blink and follow her. She started talking over her shoulder. "It's irrational of me to…!"

"Bones." He ran and caught her before she shut the door in his face. His hand, his clean, strong tanned hand clasped hers, red and slick with blood and slippery and trembling. "Bones, forget about irrational for a second, okay?"

She looked deep into his eyes and what he saw made him let her go. A force so powerful he was awed by her resolve, humbled by her strength, and he wanted to kiss her more than ever before. Provocative dresses and make-up meant nothing, this was it, this was the moment he'd ached for so long…

"I'll be fine, Booth." And it sounded like the truth. And he actually leaned forward and kissed her cheek, but for an instant his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. And it was heaven.

She didn't react, there was too much happening inside already without this.

"I'm glad. And I'm sorry you had to face that choice. I'm sorry that happened to you, that should never happen to untrained Agents."

She nodded, but he could see she really would be all right. She was tough, his Bones, tougher than he'd imagined, and she healed quickly too, at least now that the danger had passed and they knew Sarah would be well taken care of. Because even Brennan hadn't missed the look in James' eyes, the smitten, devoted look of a knight who'd found his damsel in distress. And once she opened her gorgeous eyes, he'd be hers for sure.

"So we should really clean this up." She said, sighing.

The room was a total disaster. The bed was a mess, sheets torn and bright red stains everywhere. The floor wasn't much better off, and there was the broken vase James had dropped, with it's many shards of glass embedded in the carpet. The tray he'd rolled inside was there, at least, so they had fresh towels, sheets and cleaning supplies, but they'd have to wait for James to come back before they could dispose of anything with blood on it.

"I just hope we're done before five, because the meet starts at six, and we haven't had lunch, and _I_ look like crap." Booth grumbled.

"I can't say I'm much better off." Brennan said dryly. She was right, she looked much worse for wear than he did. "Anyway, I think I'll go down to the pool again once we're done, see if I find anyone, maybe Stacy's there. And I'll be able to see James when he comes back, ask him how Sarah's doing. You realise, in our rush to get her to safety we didn't ask him for his phone number? Now we won't know until we see him."

"Yeah, it all just happened so fast." Suddenly Booth clamped his hand onto his belt-buckle. "The mike! I've still got the mike on me!"

"What's the problem?"

"I've recorded everything that just happened… Sarah, James, everything."

"We still have no evidence, and it's not like this changes anything."

"I know, but…" He seemed to calm down. "Yeah, you're right. We can't be sure it was EJ, not until we've seen the bastard, and our conversation proves nothing. I'll just put this back…" He took the device and switched it off, then put it back in it's box. "Try to talk to Mary if she's at the pool, okay?" He added as an afterthought.

"Sure. So is the meeting still in G McCullogh's room?"

He nodded. "The MOONGLOW Suite on the floor above ours. There's only four Penthouse suites, so I'm thinking us and EJ are on this floor, and G and Red are on the floor above, which leaves Demar and the Lady below."

"Do we know Demar's or the Lady's room numbers?"

"No idea."

"Okay then, shall we do this?"

In response he took off his jacket, revealing the sculpted, lean chest underneath. Brennan hadn't expected that and almost said something really _irrational_ before she remembered her Secret must stay Secret for a reason.

His back was a very… nice back, though. So broad and large, in comparison she felt small, thin and lithe. The muscles gleamed in the midday sun, making her remember what had happened between them this morning, the image of him at the foot of the bed, looking at her with those eyes and the other things that had been… yeah, that too. He was searching in his suitcase for something, the pants clinging nicely to his firm gluteus and really it was quite ridiculous how much she wanted to touch him…

Through sheer effort of will, she looked away. Her gaze landed on the glass from the floor, and she decided to start by clearing that up. She put on a pair of thick socks and got to work. Gently, being careful not to cut herself, she took one of the plastic bags from the toilet and filled it with all the fragments she could find. She also arranged the flowers neatly, throwing away the old dried ones in favour of the new blossoms James had dropped on the carpet.

Booth, meanwhile, put on a tight white shirt he could afford to get grimy (without for one second imagining what this did to his partner), and began scrubbing where Sarah had left her bloody footprints.

For a long time that day they worked in silence, washing away the horrors that had happened just a few moments before, wiping and polishing, scrubbing, soaping, rinsing and drying.

By the end of it the carpet was completely clean, and you could only guess at a slightly pinkish tint in certain areas if you looked very closely. They'd changed the sheets, and washed the torn ones twice.

Finally Booth sat on the floor with his back against the bed, his rough hands slick with soap, his body glistening with sweat. His hair stuck out in odd places, and his trousers were streaked with filth.

Brennan's locks were damp with flecks of foam, and had curled around the edges. Her make up, hastily applied that morning after her shocking wake-up call, was completely ruined, and her dress was plastered onto her body and felt uncomfortably tight.

She went to sit beside him, feeling her tired muscles protest at the movement. Her head fell back and she closed her eyes, exhausted.

_When she opened her eyes again he was looking at her. He looked so dirty __with his hair caked in dust and beads of sweat trickling down his body. So alpha-male, it woke something primal in her. It was… it really was painful how much she wanted to lick him, to kiss and bite and suck. To scream with him. After everything that had happened today, and how he was staring at her now, she realised she had to. She needed this, she deserved this one thing. And he'd let her._

"_Come." He said darkly, and the word meant two things. She crawled on top of hi__m so she was straddling him._

"_I love you." She said, and kissed him without more preamble, digging her fingers into his biceps, aching to peel off her clothes._

_But h__e seemed startled by her words, and pushed her away to look in her eyes. "Bones…?" _

_They were both panting, and she grabbed his chin impatiently. She looked into his eyes and spoke clearly. "Shut up. Let me love you."_

_He __did. In a display of force he sprang on top of her and returned the kiss with a passion, his body hard and inviting against hers. It was unbearable, waiting was painful, so she clawed at his shirt until it was off. "I love you too." He groaned as he ripped off her dress, literally _ripping_ it apart. The bed was too far away, this was enough, this was animal, feral, perfection…_

"Bones! Bones, wake up!"

She jumped and scrambled to her feet, swaying where she stood while for the second time that day she felt confused about what was a dream and what was real.

Booth was still sitting against the bed. "Hey…" He slowly got to his feet as well. "It's okay. Look, you can take a shower now and I'm sure you'll feel loads better. It's four thirty and we haven't even had lunch, if you want we can eat, or you can just rest until six, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry about that."

"Don't apologise." He smiled. "I'm really tired too. Go shower. That will help."

She knew she must be a mess, and still feeling embarrassed, she stepped into the bathroom without another word.

Booth looked around him, something he could now do without Brennan distracting his attention, and felt proud that they'd done a very good job. The SUNSHINE Suite was still gleaming with light, and it looked fresh and clean, except for the tray parked against the wall next to the door.

They could be pretty efficient criminals, he thought morbidly, if they so desired. What he desired right now, however, was to forget about Brennan's soul, body and mind, because it was compromising his train of thought and- he saw the bathroom door out of the corner of his eye here I go again _it was no use_, imagining Brennan clothed in nothing but soap, get out of my head, Temperance!

But then he looked at the tray, and back at the bathroom door, and he realised what she'd need to wipe the soap off.

"Bones… Bones, don't you want a towel…?"

Too late. The water was running and she was inside. Probably clothed in nothing but soap already, his imagination supplied helpfully.

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_**So**__** I figure I haven't asked you guys to review for a while, I mean, I've been SO good, maybe now is time for a little reminder… **_

_***clears throat**__** awkwardly***_

"_**Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!**_

_**You got me begging you for **__**feedback (yeah, yeah, yeah)**_

_**Why won't you REVIEW **__**IT?**_

_**You got me begging you for feeeeeeedback (yeah, yeah, yeah)**_

_**Why won't you REVIEW IT?**_

_**I say REVIEEEEEEEEW-EEEEEEEW**_

_**EEEEEEEEW IT (yeah, yeah, yeah)"**_

_**So… pretty please with a cherry and a**__**n unshaven Booth from the first 10 minutes of Harbingers on top?**_


	14. The Show must go On

_**I'm evil. I know, I'm also terribly sorry. I know it's been ages. Hopefully the next chappie will be uploaded sooner :)**_

_**Forgiiiiiiive meeeeeeeeeee!!!!**_

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**CHAPTER 14: The ****Show must go On**

"_Bones… Bones, don't you want a towel…?"_

His voice was muffled by the sound of the running water, the shower curtain and the door between them, but she heard him. The words brought more conflict, more problems, more tension in her already strained muscles, and she decided to ignore what they meant for now, instead focusing on her routine. She compartmentalised.

She took care to scrub her body and soap her hair without thinking about anything, not Booth, nor Sarah, James, Stacy, especially not EJ. Nothing. Then she rinsed herself methodically, letting the bad things figuratively wash away.

She felt much better by the time she stepped out of the tub and onto the soft, smooth carpet. Her body seemed to glow as the sunlight reflected on the droplets of water shining all over her skin. She saw herself in the mirror, naked in every sense, without make-up, just Temperance. Her eyes looked tired, she reflected. But then she smiled, a slightly awkward but sincere and she didn't look tired anymore.

They'd saved Sarah. She'd be all right, the Presbyterian was an excellent hospital, they'd know what to do with the wound, she just hoped they threw away the white sheet wrapped around her leg, which would lead any decent forensic team straight to Angel and Rob.

The water made her hair shine, and she thought about Booth in the room next to her. She thought that maybe one day, not now, not in the middle of this complicated case but one day, she'd like to speak to him about some things. To ask him some things about what was happening, to clear some doubts that she had.

One by one, like falling rain, the drops decorating her body trickled down onto the floor. She thought about James, and hoped against hope he turned out to be what she wished he would be, that he could become an ally, and not an enemy, she thought James' eyes had a look about them that made her trust him implicitly.

And finally, she was ready to think about needing a towel again. They'd used all the clean ones to get blood out of the carpet. The new sheets couldn't be touched. The old towels weren't an option.

So how would she dry herself?

"Booth!" She shouted, banging on the bathroom door.

"What? Bones!" His voice was louder than she'd expected, and clearer.

"I don't have a towel."

"Yeah, I know. What… what should I…?"

He sounded very close to the door. Like he was speaking in front of her. Like he could see her.

Suddenly she felt aroused and vulnerable at the same time. She took a step toward the door unconsciously. "Just give me my clothes." She said firmly.

"But… no towel?"

"We don't have another option. Please hand me the purple dress, it should be near the top of the pile in my suitcase."

"A dark one sort of… longish?" His voice sounded further away now. There was a rustle of cloth. "Well, long_er_, anyway."

"Yes. And the black underwear…" there was a second of silence, then she plunged bravely on. "The black underwear in the corner of the-"

"Got it!" He shouted, maybe a little too loudly.

She heard his footsteps, closer and closer until they stopped and she knew he was standing a foot away from her except the door was in between, and he knew she was naked and… well, _there_, which made giving her clothes to put on a _good_ idea except, well, there was a strange power in his current position. A strange… feeling of control over her state of undress which really should just… stop, right now.

"So…" he began, unsure now of what to do.

She opened the door as little as it took for a slim, wet arm to reach out, hand outstretched. Her splayed fingers seemed to demand what was hers, while her soft creamy skin looked soft and creamy once more, no longer covered in dust and grime.

Booth fought the sudden desire to lick her palm, either to make sure she really was as clean as she smelled or to find out what her reaction on the other side of that door would be. He put the bundle of clothes within her reach and took a hasty step back once her hand closed around it.

"Thank you." Came her clear voice. The crack in the door was letting all the steam from the shower into the room.

"No problem, Bones."

"I think there's a hairdryer here I can use." She said.

"Okay then."

A beat.

"Bones, you can close the door now."

"Right."

*

By the time they were both nice and clean (and dressed, of course), it was too late to eat.

"I have a feeling I'll lose a lot of weight on this trip." Booth complained while he examined himself in the mirror. Brennan stood next to him combing her hair into ringlets.

"You realise that it's much easier to lose weight healthily by constant exercise than by not eating?"

"I never said I'd lose it healthily, did I?"

"Still, we should remember to eat every once in a while."

"Yeah, that would be nice." They shared a smile through the mirror. "So you're going to the pool?"

"Yes."

He couldn't help (simply couldn't) but notice that she wasn't wearing a bathing suit. She noticed him noticing. "If asked, I'll say my pretence was to sunbathe and relax, while not necessarily engaging in aquatic activities."

"Great." The word was a squeak.

"Are you nervous?" She said, carefully avoiding meeting his gaze, having misinterpreted his tone.

"Not really. Well, I mean yeah, of course, but… today will be fine. Nah, I'm not nervous."

"Is the wire set up okay? Did I fix it right?"

Booth checked his side in the mirror once more, to make sure the tiny device was completely invisible.

"It's perfect, and I can hear you perfectly." He smiled at her again.

Suddenly the phone began to ring.

Brennan froze while applying her mascara, and Booth spun around, eyes wide. "What the- does Stacy have our room number, Bones?"

"I… I don't know. Who knows we're here besides her and Red?"

The ringing felt louder and more insistent as each second passed. "Okay, it's probably nothing. I'll answer it." Booth walked to the receiver and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Hello? Rob__?" _The voice was slightly breathless and anxious.

"Who is this?"

"_Is this Rob?"_

And then it hit him. "James?"

_"Yes! Yes, I'm here at the hospital! We got her to the hospital! I did it!" _He sounded rather incredulous at his own achievement.

"How is she?"

"_They took her to an emergency room, and I don't k__now… I'm alone. They've been in there for ages, I don't know what to do!"_

"Okay, relax, James…"

While Booth had been speaking, Brennan ran to his side and also pressed her ear against the phone.

"… has anyone spoken to you? Are the doctors asking many questions?"

"_Of course they are! And I don't know what to say! I told them I found her like this, passed out, on the street, but I don't think they believe me, and… What if they think I did this to her? I think they don't believe I'd just help her out of the goodness of my heart. Like I'd leave her bleeding to death, right? But they want to know where I got the cloth…"_ Hysteria was creeping into his voice. "_Why would anyone… God, I'm so worried, I don't know anything… they won't tell me much about how she's doing…"_

"Hey, breathe, kid. Relax, okay? We'll get you out of here. You'll be fine. Change your story, admit the truth, you work at a hotel and you found her, tell them what you told us you'd say: that you were covering for a friend, that you used sheets and towels from your cart, that you're scared you'll get fired or something, and that's why you lied first."

"_Oh… yeah, I forgot about that… okay. I'll tell them. I'll say that."_

"Don't say which hotel, they won't press you for details now, but they'll call the cops. Probably already have."

"_What-!"_

"James, relax! Listen to me-"

"_The cops!? I can't lie anymore,__ I'm _good, _I'm a good person, I've never… what… what am I supposed to do?"_

"James." Booth said firmly. "James, I'm FBI."

Brennan shot him an incredulous warning look.

"_You're…? Holy shit."_ Once again, the boy believed Booth straight away.

"Yeah, that's right. So I'll get my guys to call off the cops, okay? Calm down."

"_Okay… okay, you'll explain this properly when I see you, though, right?__ Like… is Angel FBI too? Can we trust her?"_

"Always. You can always trust her." He exchanged a look with Brennan, and she smiled proudly. "Like you said, James, I'll explain all of this properly when I see you."

There was a rush of static that indicated a deep breath from James.

"_I… I__'m really scared, man, she was bleeding so much…"_

Brennan suddenly took the receiver from Booth. "James? This is… Tempe." This time it was Booth who shot his partner an incredulous warning look.

"_Angel_?" He sounded very young, and very scared. But not for _his_ safety anymore.

"No. Yes. No. I… just call me Tempe."

"_Okay__."_

"Listen to me. She'll make it. I'm a doctor and I'm very familiar with… with the human body." It was costing her, this omission of truths, this speech. But she kept talking in her deep, soothing voice. "And Sarah had easily treatable wounds, at the most she may need a blood transfusion but her chances are excellent, she'll be perfectly all right as long as she rests for some time. The cut wasn't as bad as it looked. I… I promise, James. I do. Don't worry, sit down, maybe drink some water. And relax. She'll be all right…"

Booth was astounded. He'd never seen Brennan flatly lie to help or protect someone, not even when the truth was harsher or more unkind. If there was one thing Brennan valued above _all_… But now here she was obfuscating facts to make James feel better. And how did she know he'd been worried sick about the _girl_, and not for himself?

"_Angel… __Tempe. Please… they won't tell me anything."_

Brennan took a deep breath. James wasn't thinking, didn't ask her why she hadn't been able to do more than bandage a leg if she really was a medical doctor, he was just afraid, terrified that Sarah would die and he'd live with this horror story for ever.

"James…"

"_Help me."_

Brennan stared at the carpet floor, suddenly seeing the large dark blotches of colour, the crimson stains they'd washed away but were still there, somehow.

"All right. I'll help you."

"Bones, what the hell are you doing…?" Booth whispered frantically.

"I'm coming to the hospital, James. Right now."

"Bones!"

She shushed him, and kept talking about details, where to meet, once again assuring James that they were FBI and would keep him out of trouble… but Booth wasn't listening. Once again, Brennan's inexperience was showing in the case, although he had to admire her bravery. At least this time was much less dangerous, and provided no one found out everything, Angel was quite free to leave the hotel and roam New York. He kept telling himself that, but an image of the injured, unconscious Sarah wouldn't leave his mind, and suddenly it wasn't young Sarah, it was his Temperance who lay on the bed, still, cold…

"You can't go." He blurted, letting every bit of his passionate fear and love fuel the three meaningless words.

She pretended not to hear him and kept speaking to James in that deep voice that drove him nuts, and Booth decided to pretend he hadn't said it either, and let her leave. She could and she would, this time.

But he didn't see the way her eyes widened, didn't know that for a few moments she couldn't hear the frightened young boy at all. And then she came back to herself and reality.

Once she hung up with yet another promise to leave as quickly as she could, she turned to him.

"I have to."

"Yes, I know. It's okay, I'll be fine."

She nodded, unsure. "I'm afraid." She said finally, simply.

"Why?" Booth stepped right to her, invading every inch of her space, needing every inch of her… "Why are you afraid?" If she could answer him this, he thought, if she could only trust him, that would be enough, enough for forever.

Her eyes weren't afraid, though. They were more wondrous, a little startled, a little surprised, as though she didn't understand why she was scared. "I think it's because I can't bear the thought of you in danger." She confessed finally. "Even though I know you are strong enough, that today you will probably face no greater danger than that of choosing a good meal and not over-eating, and rationally-"

He put two fingers over her lips, silencing rationality. He wanted to say 'I love you', again. But he didn't. He didn't say anything.

Instead, he gave in to his impulse consciously for the first time since he'd become Rob, and hugged her, holding her crushingly against his chest in a sudden movement, taking a deep, shuddering breath of her and finally letting her go. It was quick and incredible, and once they separated, the unforgiving air between their bodies spoke of Secrets.

Brennan stood, stunned, unblinking, quite breathless, until she remembered where she was and what it was she was supposed to be doing. Helping James.

"I'll leave now." She whispered, still unsure on her feet. He'd literally lifted her into the air, into his arms.

"Okay." Booth said gruffly, staring at the floor because he didn't want her to see what was in his eyes right now.

"Good luck, Booth. Obviously, there is no such thing as-"

"Go!" He managed something that might pass for a laugh, and she managed a sort of smile, and closed the door gently behind her.

*

After Brennan was gone, Booth gave himself two minutes to regroup and calm down. He hadn't meant to grab her like that, with so much passion and desperation. She probably thought he was insane. They're never hugged like that, there was always something gentle and tender about holding her before, but not…

"Get it together, Seeley." He grunted.

However, when he opened the door to leave as well, there was someone waiting outside. The meeting would begin in twenty minutes, and Booth wanted to be there early, but he knew he couldn't simply walk past this person and expect to leave things there.

Mary, the woman who'd shouted at Sarah during breakfast that very morning, was standing against the corridor wall.

She wore the same silver dress, hoop earrings, and a frown.

"It was you who got Amber taken to the hospital."

It wasn't a question.

Rob was flummoxed. Booth wasn't surprised, but it still worried him that she'd figured it out so quickly. "I… who's Amber?"

"Oh Hollywood, you're not the first one to suddenly grow a conscience when you see EJ's work. Relax, I won't tell." Booth thought that she looked very much like someone who wants everyone around them to think they are calm and cool. But Mary was the last person who was relaxed right now.

"Baby, I have no idea who you're talking about." He tried arrogantly.

"It had to be you. You and the girl are in the Sunshine Suite right? The… Angel. You and Angel are in here. Amber…" finally a flicker of emotion touched Mary's cold stone face and she changed tactic. "…_Sarah_ couldn't have gone far. I searched everywhere and there was a small bloodstain in the elevator… which means two things."

Booth took a deep breath, and knew he'd been caught.

"Number one: she didn't escape by herself, because the… she was losing blood fast, and there's no way she walked away looking like she did. Which brings me to number two: someone helped her, someone who was close enough to hear her banging on their door, maybe?"

"Okay, first of all-"

"I told him it was me." She interrupted him.

"You _what_?"

"I said I found her and had her taken care of. That's all EJ or anyone needs to know." Booth rolled his eyes.

"Right. And by 'taken care of' you mean…?"

It was Mary's turn to roll her eyes. "I mean, literally, taken care of. As in, a hospital, you fool. He'll even be expecting to have her back soon."

"She'd better be all right too, or… Wait, _back_?" Booth hadn't expected this turn of events, it took him a couple of seconds to realise what Mary's words implied. "Have her _back_?"

A darker, more dangerous cloud now descended upon Mary's features. "She'll be fine. A bit weak, maybe, but he… knows that."

Booth hated the way EJ 'knew' that. Because it sounded as though he 'liked' that. And it was a good thing his stomach was empty, after all.

"Not a word of this to EJ, okay?" She said suddenly. "He can't know I lied, and he can't know you helped her. Do we have an understanding?" Her eyes flashed a warning: she knew exactly what it would mean to the tense parlay situation if Rob had interfered in EJ's business. And even though she didn't know he was an undercover FBI Agent, that made her silence a thousand times more important.

"Hey, I'm not an idiot."

"You'd better not be." She turned to go back into her room, then stopped with the card-key in her hand. With her back still facing away from him, she spoke said, very fast: "And… thanks. It would have been a real big problem for me if she'd died."

"I'm sure." Rob shrugged. "But you can thank Angel, she's the one who begged me to save the girl." He was Hollywood, after all, and Mary needed to remember that. "I almost called you guys… but then… I… didn't."

"Of course you didn't. You're not fucking psycho, are you?" It was a rhetorical question, and he didn't answer. Her voice was back to it's normal tone. "You're pretty new to the game, Hollywood, a fresh face, still clinging to morals… don't worry, that'll go." She sounded extremely old, and sad, and tired. "Tell Angel thanks."

"Sure thing."

She shut the door to her suite softly behind her, and Booth was left staring at the silver letters spelling 'STARLIGHT'.


	15. Keep Holding On

_**YOU GUYS. It's been a bagillion years. I feel HORRIBLE and MEAN and just, overall like a bad, bad person. I am so s**__**orry. I hadn't even replied to any reviews or PMs because my alerts system went into TOTAL FAIL and I didn't get a single one of them. Today I had a sec and went into my account and… wow. So many people asking about when this will be updated and me just not knowing! Please forgive me, of late my personal problems have been like "Oh hai, we're here and we exist and there's many of us so please pay attention kthnx".  
Still, that's no excuse to just disappear off the map like I did. I can't believe you were all so lovely and wonderful and worried and I SIMPLY WASN'T THERE. UGH!**_

_**Here's a tiny little excerpt that's very short and not like a real chapter at all, but I simply haven't had time to write more. Mostly I wanted to post this A/N and let you know I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY even though it has been, like I said, a bagillion years since my last update. I promise that, no matter how long it takes, I will NEVER leave this unfinished. PROMISE.**_

_**On a much happier note: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH it's probably not healthy, THANK YOU!**_

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**CHAPTER 15: ****Keep Holding On**

The on-call intern was tired. His night shift had run very late yesterday and he hadn't had a decent meal in a pretty long time. Every step felt like exhaustion, until even his bones felt blurred.

So when he first caught sight of the woman rushing into the hospital he figured he'd finally mastered the art of sleeping whilst standing, and begun to dream.  
"Excuse me!" Her voice was low and rich, creamy skin contrasting with a tight dark purple dress. He couldn't decide whether he thought she was a prostitute or an angel. Or some strange, in-between hybrid. Man, he was exhausted.

"_Excuse_ me." Her more emphatic tone made him realise she was talking to him.

"Good morning." Oops. It was evening… he was almost sure. "I mean, hi."

"I'm here to see a patient, could you direct me to the emergency rooms…?" She said, breathing slightly heavily.

"I… think you need to ask the nurse at the desk for authorisation first." He managed.

"Just tell me." She snapped. "My name is Doctor Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute and you will tell me where a young stab-victim Sarah has been taken. Now."

Oh. Yes he remembered the girl, a pretty thing covered in blood and a young boy with her who looked about to cry… he could tell her. She'd said she was a doctor, no wait, at the Jeffersonian… he needed sleep. But her tone was so demanding and secure. He could tell her. She looked slightly worried under the cool mask of her expression.

"Follow that corridor and up two floors, then wait outside. They won't actually let you in, of course, but the other visitor, the boy, he should be there if you want to—"  
But like a pale, beautiful ghost she was gone.

Ephemeral.


End file.
